Cameron Country
by Angelinsydney
Summary: Mostly OC but Spike, Winnie and Raf are in it; and Team One is mentioned. Belle returns to Cameron country in outback Queensland. A romantic tale set in an exotic locations. My usual offering of humour, thrills, adventure angst. Thank you. I can see that faithful readers are reading it again from the beginning. Unbelievable! 4,450 hits. Can't wait for 5,000.
1. Return to Cameron Country

_Author's Note: This story would be 99% OC. It is only Flashpoint in so far as Spike, Winnie and Raf appears in this story and the rest of Team One would be mentioned along the way. Bryce "Wolf" Cameron has surprisingly developed a strong following. _

_This story is set after 'Full Metal Jacket' and before 'September Child.' Later, further stories, depending on demand, would be published at fictionpress dot com._

___Further, I noticed that new readers have been reading only the first chapter, I think I know why because I had the same issue of not knowing where to find the next chapter. On the top and bottom right hand side, you will notice the title of the chapter, if you click on the down arrow, the list of chapters will appear. I hope this helps. _

_Thank you._

_**Sexy alert! ** Please do not read if it will offend you. Nothing obscene, however._

**Return to Cameron Country**

They met in a c_afé_ close to the Lab where Winnie Camden-Scarlatti worked as a Firearms and Tool Marks Identification Specialist. Belle arrived looking youthful and vulnerable in her usual get-up of denim jeans, rolled up plaid shirt overlaid with a plain T and braided red hair. At 50 kgs (110 pounds) and 160 cm tall (5'3), she still possessed the looks of someone in her early 20s although she's 30. Winnie greeted her warmly.

They arranged to meet in person so Belle could tell her of her decision to move to Queensland Australia.

"Are you sure?"

"As sure as I can possibly be."

"When?"

"I don't have a definite date, I've applied for a visitor's visa. I'm waiting for it and then I'll book my flight."

"It's a very long way to go."

Belle fell silent. She gripped her coffee cup until her knuckles turned white, "I know," she said in a whisper. "It's a long way to go to start a new life."

Winnie noticed her anxiety and touched her hand lightly, "You know what," she said, "you can't find a better man to start a new life with."

Belle smiled at Win's effort to make her feel better about her decision, "Yeah, but the reality is I hardly know him." She sighed. "What if he doesn't love me?"

"He likes you that's a start. And you're such a sweet girl, I can't imagine him not falling in love with you."

"I hope so," she said. "No pain, no gain, right?"

Winnie nodded, "Just remember... Spike and I, we'll always be here for you, ok? No matter what."

Through the waiting period, the two women spoke daily, with Winnie providing the steadying rudder as Belle oscillated between feelings of dread, anxiety and on the upside, hopefulness. They dealt with the situation with a lot of woman-sense and humour.

One day Belle said maybe she wanted to go to Cameron country because Bryce reminded her of a Hollywood star whose name she regrettably couldn't even recall, "How sad is that?"

Winnie helped out, "Eric Bana from Black Hawk Down and The Time Traveler's Wife."

"Oh yeah, that one," she said with a giggle.

"He's Aussie too so maybe there are plenty of guys over there who look just like that."

"What are you suggesting?"

"That if it doesn't work out with one movie star look-alike, try another."

"Winnie!" She said with a laugh.

With Bryce, Belle stayed in touch via email. Often as she updated him on her wait for the visa, she wondered if perhaps she was just in love with the notion of being in love. _He hasn't said he loves me, only that he wants me to be with him. _ _What does that even mean? _The more she thought of it the more panicked she felt. They had absolutely nothing in common and he's 10 years older than her.

When she got her visa after a five-day wait, she could only look at it in disbelief. Later that day, she walked the length and breadth of downtown Toronto, going in and out of travel agencies, paralysed with apprehension. In the end, at the very last minute, she bought a two-way plane ticket on sale.

She phoned Winnie on the day to tell her that she definitely going, "I know it's crazy but I've done far crazier things than this. Whistle blowing on a bent murderous Company CFO for one." Win said she'd rather not be reminded, the horror of nearly losing their lives still fresh in her memory.

"When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow," was her short direct answer. Win laughed, "God, that's quick. If you can do that being indecisive, I'd hate to find out what you're capable of doing when you're decisive."

"On the contrary, I had to do it this way or I'll probably get cold feet and not go."

She gave Bryce her travel itinerary on the phone, "I'll be at Cairns Airport to meet you," he said in an accent with a stronger Australian _strine,_ "Can't wait to see you again."

"Me too," she replied, as her heartbeats increased rapidly to match her raised temperature; his voice inexplicably caused her body to react in a certain way. She thumped her head as her mind raced away into forbidden territory. _It's excruciating_, she thought.

The day of her departure came. This time, she skipped the train journey she took the first time she went to the Queensland outback. This trip was slightly more straight-forward. Toronto-Los Angeles- Sydney-Cairns. She traveled light, opting with just one back pack and a couple of books to read. The connections being what they were, she upgraded to business class for the Los Angeles-Sydney segment of the trip to save her sanity. This time she had no intention of going "cattle class" all the way as Bryce referred to economy class.

When Qantas landed at Cairns International Airport, she felt as if the world was going to collapse on top of her. _Oh God, what have I done? _Mortifying thoughts tumbled out of her overactive brain, one after another. She went to the toilet to check herself out. She looked so disheveled after a long journey, wisps of hair were sticking every which way. Her clothes were crumpled but she couldn't find the energy to change. She at least brushed her teeth in an attempt at preserving a modicum of self respect.

She walked toward 'Arrival' and saw him instantly, at 6'0 he wasn't that difficult to find. The long hair was back, _thank God not the beard_; but as she got closer she saw two-day old stubble. _Ummm, that would be scratchy_. He must have guessed what she was thinking, he smiled took her back pack off her, leaned down, puckered his to get his stubble away from her skin as he kissed her lips, "How was the trip?" he asked in that voice that make her weak at the knees.

"Tiring," she said.

"Hungry?"

"That, too."

He looked down at her with his bluey-green eyes, raised an eyebrow and said, "I'll get you some tucker on the way."

They walked to the car park, to a beastly looking machine,a double cabin Ute. "You can sleep in the rear cabin if you prefer," he said.

"I'll sit with you in front."

"Ok," he said as he lifted her off the ground unto the first cabin's passenger seat. They drove off in silence, each to their own thoughts which didn't help ease her anxiety. She heard him say, "What would you like?"

"Sorry," she said.

"What would you like to eat?"

"Anything. Something I can eat in the car. A sandwich."

"No worries." He stopped the Ute in front of a sandwich shop, "Hop out, come get what you want."

She selected a vegetarian sandwich and a bottle of cold water, he chose the double-decker burger and mineral water. As they waited for their orders to be prepared a couple of guys walked in, thumped Bryce on the shoulder and said, "V, how ya doin' mate?"

"I'm good," he said. "Let me introduce you to me sheila." Belle looked around surreptitiously for another woman, _Whose he calling Sheila? _ To her surprise, Bryce put a hand on her head, "This is Belle. Belle, this ugly guy here is Squat and this guy here is Pong."

She smiled tiredly at the men but kept to herself. The guys acknowledged her with a casual nod and caught up with Bryce talking about sports and something about a canoe race.

"V, you're orders ready," hollered the sandwich lady. Bryce paid, gathered everything up and waved to his friends, "Catch ya later, mate."

When they returned to the Ute, she just had to ask, "Why do they call you 'V' and not B for Bryce?" He didn't give a straight answer, but winked and said, "You'll find out soon enough."

They ate silently. She gazed out of the window to watch the scenery, while he concentrated on the road as he drove single-handed. She made a small gasping sound when a kangaroo suddenly hopped into view and stopped in the middle of the road. Bryce stopped the vehicle about 50 metres from the roo who gawked at them. "Welcome home," said Bryce as he gave her a sideways glance.

"Thank you."

When they started off again, he put one hand on her thigh, which she didn't mind but pretty soon he was rubbing her knee with his fingers sending a flood of endorphins into her system. She gripped his fingers to stop him, earning a crooked little smile from him. She found him to be incorrigible_._

After an hour of driving, she stretched her legs, rested her feet on the dash and promptly fell asleep. She didn't know how long she was out but when she woke up they were in the middle of nowhere. They were off the beaten path. There was not a soul to be found. Her initial thought was they got lost or ran out of gasoline or had a break down in the middle of the great Australian bush. She jumped out of the cab and found herself in a tropical rainforest. Sunlight streaming through the canopy of trees.

"You're in the Daintree Rainforest," he said. She turned around to find him standing without a shirt, his denim jeans hanging slightly low to show the contour of his rippling torso. She looked at the broad shoulders that connected to a body that tapered to a narrow waist, _V. _She flashed an embarrassed smile.

"Come take a look," he said.

It was a waterfall, a small one. The water cascaded down to nature pool below, "Wow." The water was so clear she could see the bottom. She turned to him just as he was taking his pants off, "What are you doing?" she asked dumbly.

"Going for a swim, and I strongly suggest you don't jump in fully clothed either."

There he was standing in front of her stark naked. _ God he's beautiful._ He reached out to her, lifted the T shirt off her, then slowly unbuttoned her plaid shirt. She wasn't wearing a pair of bras, she didn't need to; not when her boobs forgot to show up when she hit puberty. He left her plaid shirt hanging open on her. Then, he slowly, teasingly removed her belt, unzipped her pants and took it off her, while holding her gaze with his eyes.

Her breathe caught when he hooked his thumb on the garter of her g-string, "It's ok," he said. Throwing caution to the wind, she stepped out of them.

Then he slid her shirt off one shoulder, revealing her androgynous body. He traced his fingers along her front and stopped when he reached her navel. There was something so utterly luscious about it; the slow revelation. Unhurried. Teasing even. When her shirt finally came off her, he said, "Let's go," and took her to the edge of the waterfall.

She stopped at the end, half frightened to death which just magnified her need to be close to him. He turned her around to face him, lifted her face, "Look at me. Just look at me."

He held her in a tight embrace, "When we leave the ground, point your toes downward and keep it straight."

"We're not going..." Her heart was thumping inside her chest cavity. It was just too much to even contemplate.

"Yes, we are." he said. He propelled them into the water, she let out a silent scream, "Toes downward," he reminded her. She did just in time before they hit the water. She felt as if she was going to drown as they become fully submerged in the water. When they broke through to the surface she laughed in a rushed of adrenaline. It was explosive. Reckless.

He led them to the waterfall, just behind the curtain of rushing water. There he kissed her passionately. She hugged him close but then he removed her arms off him and told her to hang on the veins of tree roots snaking along the rock behind. "Don't let go," he said.

He cupped her face and kissed her again. He nuzzled her neck as his hands found its way to her breasts. He gently rubbed her pink nipples intensifying her arousal. She released her hold on the tree roots, wanting so much to touch him, he caught her hands with his, "No." He got her to spread her arms out this time, "Don't let go." Wrapping her fingers along the veins of the roots. The position made her feel vulnerable and she felt a shiver along her spine.

"Trust me. Do you trust me?"

"I do," she whispered.

"Then don't let go."

She held onto the vein of that tree roots as if it was her lifeline as he made love to her. Alternately sweet and gentle, and at times a little rough. She wrapped her legs around him when he trusted inside her, groaning with both pain and pleasure. After he came inside her, he let her hugged him tightly around the neck and he waltzed them in the water.

Shadows have shifted by this time, "We have to go up there now," he said. She looked up and thought how high that must be to scale up.

"Trust me," he said again.

They swam to the edge of the nature pool. He asked her to climb on his back, "Hold on, do not let go." With one massive pull on a vine, they were out of the water. He scaled the side of the waterfall, strong hands gripped and pulled on vines as toes dugged into rocky, slippery crevices, one step at the time til they reached the top. Bloody toes and fingers later they were once again on terra firma.

Except she wasn't really.


	2. Ask Me

**Ask Me**

_What am I doing here? _

The last thing she remembered was being carried naked to the Ute, settled in the rear cabin and covered with a blanket made of soft muslin fabric. She fell asleep again and woke up shrouded in the darkness. He was nowhere near her. She laid perfectly still willing to hear the sound of his voice or his movements but there were none. Disappeared. Gone. Walked off to where she didn't know.

_How long have I been alone? Here in this wilderness._

She's lost track of time and day, couldn't tell at all; such was her disorientation. She raised herself up and gathered the muslin fabric around her, to secure herself against this growing fear.

She peered in the front seat and found her clothes. She put on her panties and her plaid shirt then wrapped herself again in the white muslin fabric. Alone in the Ute, she felt cold at 30 °C (86°F). She attributed it to exhaustion and anxiety. Fear of the great unknown. She flew around the world to a far away place, away from all she's ever known to live with the man totally unknown to her. Alien. Foreign. Different.

_He might as well be in a mask and a cape._

She looked at the digital clock on the dashboard. Watched the minutes tick by. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Thirty. He hasn't returned. It was foolish but she frightened herself with thoughts of man-eating animals or escaped convicts in the woods or perhaps he's done something really crazy... stupid... and has gotten himself killed.

_I can't stay here._

She put her pants on, opened the door then shrieked with fright as his silhoutte appeared ghost-like before her. "Going somewhere?" She gaped at him open-mouthed. It was stupid, so stupid because she cried. He raised an eyebrow wondering what went wrong, she tried to explain the tears, stammered out an explanation that only came out as jumble of incoherent words.

He reached up to her, helped her out of the cab and led her by the hand to a campsite. Fire was ablazed. There's something skewered on a stick, cooking over the flame. A tin of liquid brewing. She was mesmerised by the fire and the glow it casts as shadows danced. It was surreal in her mind's eyes.

She looked at him, his face partly hidden by shadows. "Aren't we going home?" She managed to say in a murmur. She didn't understand herself. She's been alone and been fending for herself for 12 years yet she finds herself needing to be looked after now. At this moment.

"We're home," he said.

"I mean... to the homestead."

"I know," he said watching the expressions on her face. "But for now... we stay here. You and me."

There was a fallen tree log, draped in a sleeping bag. She sat on it while he towered over her. He smiled, his features softening. "You have one chance before this goes any further." He stoked the fire, shifted to a lotus position effortlessly. "Your chance to ask me anything you want to know."

She swallowed, smiled, reflected on what he just said. "Yeah... ah, first... do you own a shirt?"

His reaction wasn't what she expected. He laughed out loud, tilted his head back. He shook his head when he finally stopped laughing. "I was wearing one when I picked you up from the airport."

"You should put it on," she said. "You're quite distracting."

His giraffe-like body moved, unfolded from its sitting position, went away to get a T-shirt. He returned wearing a form-fitting navy shirt that showed the definition of his torso. Certainly, it didn't help but she could hardly ask him now to take it off.

She watched him. Observed how quickly he broke twigs to make more kindling. It was all quiet except for the rustling of wildlife in the undergrowth and the crackling fire. He broke the silence, "Dinner is ready."

"What is it?" she asked. His eyebrow went up, she became apologetic. "I appreciate you making dinner but I watch Bear Gryllis show sometimes and he eats all these disgusting stuff."

He laughed again. _So endearing_. "If you must know, it's a rabbit."

Her eyes widened, "A bunny?"

"It's a feral rabbit. Wildlife. Not someone's pet bunny."

"No, thank you," she said. "I can't eat a rabbit."

"Well, Miss, you have a problem right cause we'll be here for three days. You'll disappear altogether if we don't put something in you."

"Three days? Why?"

"It's your bootcamp," he said in earnest. "I need to know you're here to stay. My good looks can't sustain a relationship." He turned to face her with a contented smirk, "nor good sex."

"Are you always this crazy?"

"Define crazy."

"Crazy... like you're probably the only guy in the world who'll jump in a waterfall to have sex."

"I don't jump in waterfalls just to have sex... I jump because I can." He pulled the rabbit off the skewer, broke it in two. It smelt delicious and appetising especially when the juices ran out of it but her brain rebelled.

_It's a bunny rabbit._

He skewered the half of it back, and made a meal of the other. She watched him enjoy it then closed her eyes. He looked at her from his peripheral vision. He came a little closer, broke off a piece of meat from the bone, and she felt his fingers trying to prise her lips open, "Come on, give it a go" he said encouragingly. She accepted it.

She opened her eyes. He smiled, gave her the other half, "You need to eat." She picked on it. Then he offered her tea, "Have a billy." She graciously accepted, drank it, although the billycan looked like it needed disinfecting.

"Tell me something about what you used to do?"

"What is there to tell? I was a soldier. You know what soldiers do."

"But you weren't an ordinary soldier."

"No. I wasn't. Much has been said of elite soldiering. That we fight for Queen and country but at the heat of the moment, it's the man on the right and the left that we fight for. We do it for each other. My mates."

"Are you really done with it?"

He pulled a mobile phone out of his pocket. "Yes and no. When this phone rings, and it will ring... it would be a done deal that I would go. I would leave everything behind and I would go. And you can't ask me where to and for how long. You can't ask why." She held his gaze, he continued, "If you want to take this any futher, you need to know, it is my mistress."

"I understand," she looked down feeling slightly disconcerted. When she gathered the courage to go on, she asked, "What would you like me to call you?"

"I pretty much answer to anything," he answered with a cheeky laugh.

"Why did they call you 'Wolf'?"

"I think it's because of my tattoo... the Army tend to give people nicknames."

"When did you join the Army?"

"I was 17 when I enlisted, 25 when I passed selection for the SAS."

"I was still in high school at 17," she said. "I lived a pretty sheltered life compared to you."

"Most people lived a pretty sheltered life compared to me."

"Tell me about Rajo."

"The cheeky little bugger," his face broke into a wide grin, "I've always felt a strong connection to him from the moment I met him. I led a six-man Special Forces team protecting a bush hospital in Somalia. It was operated by Doctors without Borders. He was born there but his mother didn't make it. Volunteers came and went except for Dr Michelle Bouvier. She stayed till the end, until we were told to pack it up, extract her and leave. She wouldn't, not without the patients so we extracted everyone. Rajo was strapped to my back all the way to Kenya."

He focused on the fire, watching it slowly turn to ember. "We had to walk 300 klicks to Dadaab in Kenya, there was no available logistical support to lift everyone to safety... but 25 klicks to go before we could cross the border we encountered enemy combatants. Michelle was killed."

"Did you love her?"

"It's a long time ago... a lifetime ago. I can't even picture her now. The memory is fading." He blew out some air then came the answer to her question, "Yeah, I loved her."

He put more kindling into the fire before he gazed at her, "Don't go down that road... it was a long time ago. I don't think of her... I haven't. Not for many years."

He reached for her hand, "I'm glad you're here."

Suddenly, he got up. "I need to go for a swim." He doused the fire, kicking soil into the ember, burying it, cutting off the oxygen that fueled the flames. Then they were blanketed in darkness until their eyes adjusted to the absence of light.

"It's very late," she said.

"It's beautiful in the moonlight. Come..." She gave him her hand. They walked towards the waterfall, illuminated only by the moonlight. They stood close to the edge, she leaned in to see the moon's reflection on the clear surface. It was just out of this world.

He whispered to her, "You have two more days to decide if you can take the big plunge."

He moved her away from the edge, took his clothes off and leaped into the darkness. She heard the water splashed the same time her nerves jangled. Minutes passed...

_He's down there and I'm up here. There's something wrong with this picture._

She took her clothes off... everything. She went to the edge of the fall, and called out to him, her voice carried in the stillness of the night, "Wolf... I'm coming."

She saw his physical outline at the far end of the nature pool, she sensed he was smiling, willing her on. She jumped!


	3. Comes with the Territory

**Comes with the Territory**

She woke up as intense light came through the tent canopy. She was alone again.

_I have to get used to waking up alone_.

She tried to move but couldn't. Her body screamed and ached, everywhere. After swimming and making love in the water, they've had to climb up again to the top of the fall. He had planned it.

_The neanderthal planned it_.

He led her behind the curtain of water, felt for something against the rock. It was a climbing rope, he flicked it out of its hiding place, move it to the side out of the fall. "There are knots tied along the length of the rope, spaced a foot apart," he instructed. He showed her how to do it, she looked at him with eyes the size of saucers, indignant.

"You have got to be kidding me, you neanderthal."

"Neanderthal?"

"Cave man."

"I know what a neanderthal is. But pardon me if I disagree... if I'm a cave man I wouldn't let you out. I'd tie you up, shut you up and just bang you when I want." The bluey-green eyes narrowed. Her own blues blinked.

"Now, I'm being considerate, I'm letting you go up first."

She looked at the rope, touched it. The hemp was rough against her hands, she looked at him eyes flashing. "I don't want to do this."

"I know," he said. He clasped her neck in his rough hands, and kissed her passionately. She felt breathless. "But you have to. This is not the world as you know it. It's primitive. Not for the faint-hearted."

Tears streaming down her face, she protested. "But it's so unfair, you're deliberately making it hard. You want me to quit."

"If you want to quit, I'll drive you back to the airport. I'm not deliberately making it hard for you...I want you to stay but it's best you know I'm impossible to live with."

She looked up, her chest thudded, it seemed impossible. "The most exercise I've ever done was window shopping, I don't know how you think I can do this."

"You can."

"Stop saying that."

"I can't make you, you have to be willing. It comes with the territory."

She swallowed her fear, nodded, "Ok." He smiled and coached her along from below. When she's was up about three feet, he warned her before he commenced his own climb. The rope stretched and swayed as it took his weight freaking her out. She gripped the rope tighter, burning her skin. Slivers of hemp digging inside her palm.

They made it half an hour later. She laid on the mossy edge exhausted. Passed out. He carried her to the tent set up on the back of the Ute.

The morning light was too bright. She closed her eyes.

_I'm a total wreck. _

Tears came out uncontrollably, feeling sorry for herself.

_This isn't what I want. I want someone like Spike, someone who's sweet and nice and romantic. I want someone who'd say 'I love you' everyday. He hasn't even said that, not once. He's not what I want. I made a big mistake._

She wiped her tears and felt disgusted with herself for being such a weakling. She noticed her hands, they were nicely bandaged in gauze. She removed the bandage to check her palm, pressed on it was a leaf. The scratches has healed nicely overnight.

She looked down on herself, she was dressed in his T-shirt. In spite of her feeling sorry for herself, she smiled at his thoughtfulness.

She heard rustling sounds outside the tent, she peered out of a small opening of the zippered flaps. The first thing she saw was a pair of military grade boots. She looked up and was surprised to find a clean shaven neanderthal. He has shaved off the three-day old stubble and cut his hair short. Her heart jumped.

"You're not going back..."

He flashed a smile, "Nah." He jumped up the Ute, unzipped the flaps, "So how's my Mrs."

_Mrs._

He laughed wildly at her bewildered expression, grabbed her waist, wrestled her down and kissed her. "Wouldn't it wild if someone walks in on us?" She stiffened, he laughed again.

"You're such a disgrace."

He appeared bemused, "I can think of a lot of words to describe me. Disgraceful doesn't cut it."

His hand went up her T-shirt and came close to... she stopped him, "No."

He stopped. Smiled. "See, proves I'm not a cave man." He made a move to leave. She felt regret, reached out to touch his shoulder, "Wait." He stayed rigid. Waited to hear what she has to say, "Sorry."

The Wolf turned to face her, brows furrowed, "For what?"

She didn't answer. He reached up to touch her face, "You're entitled to say 'No'. You can't be sorry for that. Breakfast's ready." He jumped down and helped her down.

They walked back to the fallen log, a billycan waiting for her. He handed it to her, "The tea has cooled." She took it and smiled at a pretty little flower floating inside the billy. In the daylight and after a good night sleep, she has a much better appreciation of her environment. Relaxing to the sound of rare birds and exotic animals in a tropical paradise, it was an unforgettable experience.

"We leave the Daintree today but first I'll take you to see the 1100-year-old giant twin Bull Kauri Pine trees, the tallest in the world. It's not a long walk."

_Not a long walk... I doubt it._

She inspected his body. It was peppered with scars.

_I wonder what stories come with them._

He noticed the scrutiny. She looked away embarrassed. He came over with crackers topped with freshly sliced tomatoes, herbs and cottage cheese. She wondered where it came from then she noticed an unlidded ice box on the ground.

"I checked you out last night... when you were sleeping." He smiled wickedly, "I like. Very much." she reddened which he found sexy, he said so.

After breakfast, they packed up. "Do you have walking boots?"

"No, sorry." She was secretly delighted.

_No walking boots. No walking._

He walked towards the Ute, brought back a pair of walking boots with him, "It's Billy's. She reckoned it'll fit you." She sighed. He laughed.

She dressed the part of a hiker. Fresh plaid shirt, denim jeans, thick socks, walking boots. He came over with a cap and a bottle of sunscreen, he lathered her face with the liquid. She brushed her waist length hair, "Let me," he said.

He took the brush from her hand, his hands were surprisingly light. He braided her hair deftly, another surprise. "How do know how to braid hair?"

"I used to do mine when I was young."

_He's so strange. A mystical creature._

"Ready?" she nodded. He took her hand and they walked off to explore the rainforest where trees towered up to 45 metres.

"The Daintree is called the Emerald of Australia. There are 40 fern species here, the King Fern has the world's longest fronds. It is home to 3000 known species of plants." He pointed out some of the exotic plants as they strolled along and took photographs.

They were walking for at least three hours when they stopped for refreshment. He opened his ruck sack and handed her "Special Forces food." A packet of M & M and a bottle of water . They sat on the peaty soil, surrounded by grand beauty not far from a freshwater stream populated with colourful rainbow fish,

Then he surprised her again. He selected a leaf, sat down before her and played a leaf-lute version of _Edelweiss._ She was carried away by the music, the place and the moment. He ended the song in his baritone voice, singing the verse, "_Small and white. Clean and bright. You look happy to meet me_."

She cried shamelessly. "You're who I want," she said. A complete reversal of what she was thinking earlier.

"I should hope so," he replied. He dug something out of his pocket. A ring made of forest twine. "I've been making this while you were sleeping." She wiped her dripping nose.

"Will you marry me?"

She couldn't answer, she was so overtaken with emotion.

"You have one more day to make up your mind..."

"I don't. I mean I don't need another day. Yes. Yes."

He put the twine ring in her finger, then kissed the scarred palms of her hands. Then, he let her take the lead. After all, he was a rascal not a neanderthal.


	4. Thriller in Paradise

_Author's Note: Those of you who are familiar with my style know it ain't complete unless there's action. There's plenty of them in this chapter. Come for the ride. _

_Um, it's SAS action... so **swear word alert** applies._

_Thanks for recommending this story to fellow fans and friends. It's the only explanation why more people are reading this story than I ever dared believe possible._

**Thriller in Paradise**

Belle had a taste of Wolf's brand of humour when he put a finger to his lips and said, "Can you hear that?"

She stiffened. Her eyes darted left to right. Her head turned every which way then said, "No."

His forehead wrinkled, "Someone's coming."

"Oh God."

She made an attempt to reached for her shirt, he held down her right wrist and said in a nonchalant way, "It's ok, I'll cover your modesty."

"No! You're insane. You're really insane."

He grinned at her, enjoying her utter discomfort. She was by now frantic, tried to struggle free even as her eyes remained peeled to where she imagined this lurker might suddenly appear from. Watching her squirm was so comical Wolf cackled his head off. She paused, realised she's been had. She snarled at him and gave him a kick. He caught her leg with his other hand, pinned the other with his legs leaving her with just a left hand to defend her honour.

She battered his shoulder when he couldn't stop laughing. In the end, he had a grip of her left wrist, too. So, there she was. Lying on the ground, both arms pinned down over her head with his right hand, her left leg in his left hand, her right leg pinned between his legs. He leaned over her with a devilish smile, "Do you think Adam and Eve felt this way?"

In spite of the compromising situation she was in, she couldn't help but banter back, "Except in their case, it's the snake that walked in on them."

He winked at her, shrugged his shoulder slightly. "Well, the Daintree is home to a number of sna..."

She didn't let him continue, she was struggling to get free again, "You sonabitch, let me go. Get off me!" He was heaving with laughter again.

He only stopped laughing when she stopped struggling. Then, something happened she didn't expect. Something she hoped for but never even thought was going to happen soon. He leaned down on her, whispered, "I love you" to her ears. She locked eyes with him. Her face softened. He released her hands to frame her gamin face, leaned in to kiss her with such tenderness tears came rolling down her face again.

When he stopped kissing her, she professed her love for him. He exhaled, "I hope you don't live to regret that," he said in all seriousness. "You really don't know what you bargained for."

He surveyed their surroundings to read the shadows, "We better head off if we want to reach the homestead before dark. I'll bring you back another time to see the twin kauri pine trees."

They dressed and he hefted the back pack. "You must be very tired," he said. "Want a lift back?"

"No." she said, "I'm alright."

They walked back hand in hand admiring the scenery around them. Suddenly he noticed something odd and stopped. "What is it?" she asked.

"A path," he said.

"What about it?"

"Hikers aren't allowed to walk out of designated paths and venture into the wild. It damages the flora." His eyes narrowed. "Wait here, I'll have a look. I won't be long."

She tightened her hold on his hand, "No, I'm coming with you."

He sighed, "Ok. Hand on my back." They walked in, hand on his back as he instructed. At one point, she let go, he turned around and said sternly, "Hand on my back." About 300 metres in, they found a clearing. Someone had cleared an area of the rainforest of its native flora and planted some weird plant, she didn't recognise it. He exhaled angrily, "Cannabis. Some fuckers..."

He tensed, put a finger on his lips. She wasn't sure if she was pulling her legs again, she opened her mouth to speak but he clasped them with his hands. He whispered and directed her to move away and hide behind a fern, "Stay low."

"Bryce..."

"Trust me."

She did as she was told, seconds later a man materialised into the clearing. She heard him say, "Who are you?" The heavily tattoed man looked and sounded threatening and produced a hand gun. She covered her mouth with her hands, closed her eyes and prayed silently.

When she opened them again, she found Bryce with his hands up, she heard him say, "It's cool, take it easy."

"Who are you?"

"Just a hiker."

"Fuck you asshole." He tilted his head to one side and eagle eyed Bryce, "Forest ranger, eh." He loosen his stance, aimed the gun at Bryce sideways like goons do in movies.

Belle was beside herself._ Oh my God. _

Bryce tried not to think of her; it was her he worried about. He hoped she wouldn't do anything stupid and just stay put. _Bloody trust me, Belle._

He walked slowly towards the man, his arms raised up in front, his palms facing outwards, an appeasing and submissive gesture, but in fact the perfect defensive position from which to begin a disarming technique. Keeping his eyes peeled on the gun, _Glock 17._ _Fuck_, s_afety's off and finger's on the trigger_. He kept his cool. "It's ok," he said. "I'm not armed. I'm not a ranger. Just a hiker."

He has to do this right, _work the environment in my favour. _He deliberately slowed things down. When he has closed the gap to get within reach of the gun without being shot, he smiled.

"What are you smiling about, fuckface?"

"Behind you," he said. The man turned. _Works every single fucking time. _Bryce made his move.

He moved quickly and confidently, completing the whole technique in one unbroken movement. In less than fifteen seconds, the goon was writhing in pain and screaming like a castrated monkey.

Bryce stepped diagonally forward to the left and to the side, out of the line of fire. As he moved to the left, leading with his left foot, he pivoted on his back foot so he was facing towards the thug with his arms outstretched directly in front. At the same time as doing this, he grabbed hold of the thug's wrist with his left hand, while bringing his right hand up to grab the barrel of the gun from underneath. Simultaneously, he pushed down on the thug's wrist with his left hand whilst twisting the gun and pushing the barrel to point upwards with his right, breaking Mr Goon's trigger finger in the process.

Now he simply pushed downwards towards the ground with his right hand and the gun slipped out of Mr Goon's grip. As soon as he has the weapon, he stepped back out of reach, gave the goon a jaw shattering kick in the face.

He was about to ask Belle to come of hiding when he heard rustling, another was coming through into the clearing. His combat training kicking in big time, Bryce raised the hand gun, went down to kneel on one knee as a tough looking, dark skinned fellow armed with a Smith and Wesson 637 snub nose materialised. The Wolf pulled the trigger hitting the man in the gut with the Glock-17. A gut wound was never fatal so he quickly got off his feet, took possession of the S&W, tucked it into the small of his back.

The second man nearly went out of his mind when Bryce emptied the Glock by firing into the ground all around him. Belle ducked into the ground, her hands covering her ears as gunshot after gunshot disturbed the peace. Once all the bullets were spent, he wiped it clean of his prints, and pressed the barrel back into the unconscious man's hand.

Belle watched mutely as he searched the two men, found their mobile phones, wallets and car key. He took these, put them in his back pack. She heard him say to the wounded man, "I know who you are. And I know where you live, if I ever see your hair in my line of sight again, I will not hesitate to kill you."

The Wolf removed his shirt before shouldering the back pack. He went over to Belle, covered her face with his shirt so she didn't have to see the two bloodied men. Once they reached the designated path again, he said. "We need to get out of here."

He put the back pack on her, gave her a piggy back ride. She laid her head on his shoulder, her arms wrapped lightly around his neck. He tabbed out of the Daintree seemingly unburdened by her weight. When they reached the Ute, she voiced what's been bothering her, "We can't just leave them there, they'll die."

"We're going to see the rangers and let them know where to find them. They'll be right."

"You shot him," she said.

He glanced at her, gave her a tight smile, "He'll live" he said. He added grimly, "Let's hope I don't live to regret the decision to let them off breathing."

"Me, too."

Bryce turned on the engine and drove off. She reached in to turn on the radio, she couldn't stand the deafening silence. They have driven for about an hour when he stopped 100 metres passed an empty parking lot. "Stay here, I'm going to see the rangers."

He hopped out, lifted the driver's seat and retrieved a light green hoodie. He put this on, zipped it up and covered his head with the hood.

She followed his movements in the rear view mirror. Bryce morphed before her eyes. The man hunched down a little, walked with a bounce on his feet and a swagger. His hands swaying with every step. _He looks like an inner city gangsta_. She blinked, turned around to make sure it was still the man she was going to marry.

Bryce walked into the ranger's office, "Yo, man. Just lettin' ya know two dudes had a shoot out over by the..." He saw a rainforest and river walk map tacked on the wall, "right about here." He pointed to it.

One of the two rangers said, "We heard what sounded like gun shots, ya have anything to do with that?"

He raised his hands, "No man... no way... just hiking, man. Saw two men go into the woods right about there," he pointed to it again. "Then, fuck yeah, hell broke loose and I legged it."

"Ok, wait here. You're coming with us." He nodded.

The two rangers went inside the office to get ready, Bryce took his chance to scoot out simultaneously unzipping the hoodie. He shrugged it off him, rolled it in a bundle, tossed it in a recycling bin right outside the Ranger's out building. He turned the other way before reversing back towards the Ute. The bounce and the swagger were gone, replaced by confident long strides.

On his way to the Ute, he saw the two rangers in the parking lot scratching their heads. One of them accosted him, "Did you see a man in a green hoodie?"

He looked around and said, "No... sorry."

He overheard the other say, "That could be him, John. He's the only one around."

"Don't be an idiot. That guy was shorter and walks like a Hollywood goon. No way that's the same guy."

Belle watched from the side mirror as shirtless Bryce walked towards her, thumbs hooked to the pocket of his pants, back straight, in long and assured strides.

So whilst the rangers were left wandering what to write in their report when they file it, the Wolf and his Belle drove off and disappeared into the billowing dust towards dry, hot Cameron Country.


	5. Under the Stars

_Author's Note: Comic relief of the sexy variety. I hope you find laughter sexy._

**Under the Stars**

They reached the township of Malanda around six in the evening. Bryce stopped in front of a _local_, as the locals called a pub or a motel. "We're now in the Atherton tablelands" he said. "And I'm starving."

The first thing she noticed about the 'Malanda Hotel' was the timber, Bryce smiled and filled in the blanks for her. "It's the biggest timber pub in Australia, it goes on forever and it's all timber." They walked into the restaurant, as they entered, she noticed the prominence of the building material seen in the floorboards and the magnificent staircase (made from local Silky Oak) leading to the hotel rooms and second floor. "Wow," was all she could say.

Although the hotel served a range of tasty reasonably priced counter meals, they also have an Australian à la carte menu. He led them to a corner table, and he sat as always against the wall where he could see everyone coming and going.

"What are you having?" she asked.

"Kangaroo and croc meat," he said, looking deadly serious.

She looked at him open-mouthed, "Please tell me you're joking."

He looked at her sideways and said, "Watch me." He called the waiter for the menu and laughed out loud at her discomfiture. She soon realised he'd had her again and silently promised herself to get her own back. She pouted and told him off.

They ate heartily, laughing and joking and generally being the centre of attention. She soon discovered that Bryce had a way of attracting unwanted attention but also has his way of making himself obscure when he wanted to or when it suited him.

After a full meal, the first they've both had in two full days, Bryce paid and led her out again. "Aren't we checking in? It's too late to be driving to Gregory Downs."

"We're spending the night here, I'm too tired to keep on driving. But we're sleeping in the great outdoors."

"You're joking," she said. "You're always joking."

He hugged her tightly, the top of her head merely reaching up to his collar bones. "This time I'm not. Come on, hop in." He helped her up the Ute again then drove off not far from the main street of the township.

She heard water again, "We're at the Malanda Falls," he said. He looked up at the night sky and said with confidence, "It's not going to rain." She thought that they would sleep in the tent again on the back of the Ute but she was mistaken. He busied himself rigging something up between two trees, a military hammock, complete with bug net to keep nasties away.

She was intrigued, finally she found the guts to ask, "Bryce, what exactly are we doing?"

"Why havin' a honeymoon of course, my little pixie."

"Honeymoon?"

"Yeah, some things are more fun when you do it back to front." He hooked up one end of the paracord to the hammock then turned to her, "My Belle, I'm gonna make an honourable woman out of you yet."

The hammock ready, he went for a swim to get cleaned up. She did the same, shampooing and conditioning her hair in the stream, he waded over to where she was and offered to help with her hair. He teased her for wearing a T-shirt to bathe in seclusion with only the watchful eyes of the stars as witnesses. He found it so charming and kissed the tip of her nose. It was cosy and romantic until they heard a sudden plopping sound, she tensed and he laughed. "Don't worry, it's probably just a platypus, a turtle or just a giant lizard." The last one freaked her out.

"I think I'm clean enough." He laughed at her again.

"Me, too" he said then helped her out of the water. He, of course, was butt naked again! She turned to him and asked coyly, "Don't you own a pair of briefs?"

"What's that?" he said. She blushed, and he enjoyed it.

Eventually, he gave her a straight-forward answer, "No, I don't. I don't see the point. Ever heard the term 'Commando'? Guess where the reference originated from?"

"But what happens if someone attacks us while we sleep?"

"I don't see the relevance," he said, "What's not having an underwear got to do with my ability to keep us safe? Unless you think I should be in possession of Superman's briefs." He turned her around to face him, "Honestly, I don't use it. But I would... if it makes you feel better. Are you uncomfortable about it?"

"No," she said in earnest, "I was just... um... curious."

"Ok, now you know."

She went to her backpack to change out of her clingy wet shirt, took her toothbrush out and he did the same. They shared water from a bottle and then they were ready for sleep.

They walked to the hammock, as they neared it, she peered in, "Let me guess," he said, "You've never slept in a hammock." She nodded in agreement. He shook his head and wondered aloud, "What on earth did you ever do for fun?" She was about to reply when he said, "Don't answer that."

He couldn't resist doing one more cheeky thing. He lifted up her T-shirt that was long enough to cover her butt, underneath she was wearing a G-string. "Just my point exactly, I don't see what purpose it serves." She slapped his hand away and said, "None of your business." He laughed at her, then she realised that the man loved to laugh.

"Anyway, let me show you how to get in a hammock."

He sat down on it as if it's a swing, next he helped her up so they were sitting side by side. They stayed that way until the balance was right and the hammock stilled a little. "Now," he said, "We will turn in at the same time, our heads will be this way, and our feet that way. Ready?" She nodded, getting excited at the prospect of nesting in a hammock with him.

"On three," he said. On the count of tree they simultaneously turned in, they laid perfectly still until it was right to adjust their bodies in the hammock without tipping it over, then he zippered the bug net. Cocooned inside, she exhaled as she looked up at the starry night sky, it was magical. He pulled her in close to the crook of his neck, "One day, I'll teach you to navigate by the stars so you'll always find your way home."

"I'd love that," she responded dreamily.

The breeze swayed the hammock gently, and soon the sound of the waterfall and the native fauna enduced sleep.

She didn't know what time she woke up. She looked at her position, she has shifted. She was no longer lying next to him but was on top of him. The side of her face rested against his abdomen, the lower half of her body between his legs. At one point, he crossed his legs together, squeezing her tight. They looked like a giant tangled pretzel.

Whatever possessed her? She kissed his firm abs, running her lips from across one side to the other. She felt hands on her shoulder and heard him say, "Don't start anything you're not prepared to finish." She thought about it. And thought about it some more. Seconds later she decided, _Ah what the hell!_

She started kissing him again, "Ok, you got fair warning," said the rascal.

She made love to him to the extent of her limited expertise. Growing up nerdy didn't allow for much practice in this department but she was no slouch either.

Satisfied, she has given all she's got, he pulled her up gently to him. With expert ease, he turned them around so she was underneath him. They were suspended in mid-air by paracord making love. The sense of excitement was heightened by the fact they had to do this carefully or they would end up upside down. The awareness was so intense.

He made love to her deliberately, gently, teasingly . There was none of that 'slam, bam, thank you ma'am.' None of the vicious, violent, rough sex people talk about as the only way to get to heaven.

There was none of those. When he entered her, he moved and gyrated with intense sexuality, hitting her G-spot. She responded by tensing her pelvic muscles, gripping him with such intensity. They've made loved a few times before and he knew she wasn't faking it. She has hit orgasm so many times one couldn't possibly fake it.

It was intense and sexual. When he came, she came with him. At the end of it, she unthinkingly, breathlessly said, "Oh my God, what was that all about?"

He paused, raised himself on one elbow, studied her and said, "Hon, if you don't know what that was all about, then we're really fucked."

She laughed and he laughed. He has this manly booming sort of laugh that made her laugh even more. _God,_ she thought, _it's too sexy._ It was just way too funny.

Then to her horror, she was about to make it extremely hideously funny. She stopped laughing and said, "I need to use the toilet."

He grinned, "No problem. The stream to our left and the bush to our right."

"Oh that's just bad," she said horrified.

"No, this location, isn't remotely bad. You want bad, I can tell you bad. You wanna hear about it?"

"No," she said abruptly, "I'd rather not. Ok, help me out of here."

He did as she asked, before she turned to leave to do her business, he said, "Hon, don't go too far... in case I have to rescue you from foxes."

She tensed and said, "What are you doing? Trying to get me constipated."

"No, just sayin' don't go too far." He zippered himself back inside the hammock. She could still hear him laughing, _That merry booming laugh of his, _it brought a smile on her face.

Inside the cocoon, the Wolf was thinking, _It's been too long since I laughed this much, I love you, Belle._


	6. Home

**Home**

Bryce packed everything up for the drive home, he smiled at Belle, "Only four more hours. Ready?" She nodded, eager to get underway.

"Would you like me to drive? You've been driving the whole time." She expected that he would baulk at the idea but to her surprise tossed her the car key.

"Thanks," she said, "I hope you're a good passenger."

They climbed on-board. He gave her one instruction and pointed the way forward, "Just drive straight in that direction until you reach a fork in the road, then wake me up so I can show which road to take."

"Ok." She adjusted the driver's seat to her small frame, ready to roll. To her disappointment, he climbed into the second cabin which meant she would be driving by herself in the front cabin. Once he settled in, she viewed him through the rear view mirror. His long frame stretched out, his face covered with his battered akubra drover's hat, he promptly switched out. She felt sort of abandoned but encouraged herself it was best that no one would be scrutinising her driving skills.

She turned on the radio and sang along to country music. Passing through some awesome scenery, she soon forgot the passenger in the backseat until the Ute stalled. _Oh dear_.

Turning around she reached over to wake him. He instantly jerked up as if startled, then frowned. It seemed it took him a moment to recognise her. "Sorry," he said, "I was having a bad dream." He rubbed his face and leaned forward on his knees.

She offered him a water bottle, "Would you like a drink?"

"Yeah, that's nice." He drained the bottle in one go. Then he apologised as soon as he realised that he had consumed all she had. "Sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"It's ok." Watching him slouched on the back seat, she asked, "Do you often have bad dreams?"

He reached to touch her face and stroked her fair skin with his thumb, "Now and then," he said but failed to elaborate.

"So, tell me why are we stopped here?"

"I was hoping you can tell me, it just stalled."

He smiled, "That's easy... we've run out of petrol."

Her face registered shock, "Oh no, we're in the middle of nowhere!"

The Wolf laughed. "Oh, you of little faith."

He jumped out of the cabin and climbed to the back of the Ute where he has petrol reserve in 10 litre drums. She involuntarily grimaced when he put a well-used, dirty as hell hose in his mouth to siphon the gasoline from the drum. He watched her from the corner of his eyes, thought naughtily to share the petrol's after taste from the hose by kissing her on the mouth. The cheeky thought caused him to crack up which unfortunately caused him to swallow a wee amount of the liquid. His gag reflex kicked in. Spitting and chucking at the side of the road, Belle was overtaken with worry. "Are you ok?" she asked with concern.

"Yeah," he said. He wiped his mouth with his T-shirt, "My fault, I wasn't concentrating on the job."

It was successful the second time around. They stood around silently as they waited for the gas tank to have its fill. She stole a quick glance in his direction when she thought he wasn't looking. She thought wrong. For he said, "Ok, there's something on your mind, go ahead, say it."

When she didn't say a word, he cajoled, "Come on, out with it."

She looked down at her feet before she asked the nagging question, "Do I get my old room back? Or, do I share a room with you?"

"Hell no," he said. "If I want a room mate, I'd have advertised for a back packer." He closed the gap between them, locked her in an embrace, nuzzled her ear and whispered, "You'll be my bed mate." She chuckled into his chest.

"Well, here we go, done. Are you still keen to drive?"

"Only if you stay awake this time. It's kind of lonely driving this huge stretch of road without company."

"Suits me," he said.

The rest of the way over, they listened to country music and sang along. When they reached the fork on the road, he told her to turn right and follow the meandering unsealed road, "We would be home in an hour."

She knew they've reached home when she entered a property gate festooned with balloons and streamers that said, "Welcome home, Belle."

Bryce echoed the message, "Welcome home, pixie."

"Thank you" was all she managed to say. She kept driving for another half hour before the homestead came into view. The sound of the engine alerted the welcoming committee of their arrival. The first to rush out the door was Rajo, jumping excitedly, "Nanna, they're here."

"Just in time for lunch," she said beaming. Sue and Belle became very close the first time the flame-haired Canadian came to Cameron Country.

Billy and Raf came out to meet them, looking very much in love in their matching cowboy and cowgirl outfits.

Rajo came over, "Hi Belle, remember me?"

She patted him on the head affectionately and said, "How can I forget? You're the most gorgeous eight year old ever." He hugged her around the waist before running off to his Dad.

He told Bryce, "You were away for weeks and weeks."

The father laughed, "It was two and a half days," he said. "You exaggerate too much."

After the warm welcome, Sue invited them to sit down for lunch. It was typical light Tropical Queensland midday meal. With the heat, they didn't care much for hot meals. Instead they had sandwiches, lots of salad and fresh fruit; and plenty to drink.

"You must be tired," said Sue. "Feel free to rest after lunch."

"Thanks," she said. "I do feel the heat and the humidity. And the jet lag hasn't worn off yet. I think my body will be on Queensland time in a couple of days."

"Try a week," said Raf.

When she tried to stifle a yawn, Bryce quickly said, "I'll show you to our room."

He lead her to the only room in the homestead she's never seen the inside of in the month she stayed at Cameron Country previously. He held the door open and first thing she saw was a colourful hammock in the centre of the room. She stopped on her tracks and asked in disbelief, "You can't possibly expect us to sleep in a hammock every night, do you?"

"Yes, I do," he said in that confident tone. "It's made of cotton and nylon and woven by Mayan families who live in villages around Merida, capital of the Mexican State of Yucatán and largest city of the Yucatán Peninsula."

She stood by the door frozen, it was simply overwhelming. _How much more of his bizarre lifestyle should I put up with?_ He touched her face and said, "Give it a fair go, you'd be surprised how much you'll love it."

"What if I don't like it?"

He smiled and said, "Well... I'll sleep in the hammock and you can sleep on the floor."

Tired and cranky, her brain jet lagged, she dissolved into tears. _To sleep in a hammock once was nice, but every night? It's so unfair._

Far from getting angry, he scooped her up in his arms and placed her in the hammock, then whipped out a harmonica from his back pocket. He played "Waltzing Matilda", the quintessential Australian folk song, in a soft and slow arrangement. When the music ended, he rocked her gently.

Without meaning to, she fell into deep sleep and woke up completely refreshed.

When he checked in on her; finding her wide awake from her nap, he asked, "How'd you like my hammock?"

Admitting defeat, she said, "I love it."

"Good, cause I wasn't going to trade my hammock for you."

They locked eyes for what seemed like forever then she said, "Where have you been all my life?"

The answer surprised her, "Had you met me 10 years ago you wouldn't have liked me... too selfish. I'm still selfish but a little less."

When night fall came, as they laid side by side in the hammock, she thanked him for not being angry at her for her earlier behaviour, which was infantile to say the least. He stared at the ceiling while he absent-mindedly stroked her cheek, "It's the least I can do," he said.

"You haven't cost me anything. But I've cost you all you've ever had and known. You came here to be with me. This is not your land, not your people, not your culture and tradition, not what you're used to. You left everything to be with me, so the least I can do is be patient.

"I've made you do things you've never done, all of them outside your comfort zone, because you see, I'm selfish. I'm trying not to be but I am. This is the life I know and you were willing to accommodate me."

He turned to look at her, "I'll help you adjust the best way I can."

She smiled. "Thank you, but I sincerely hope it doesn't get more bizarre." He laughed heartily, that's when she had a sense it's only just begun.


	7. That Man of Yours

**That Man of Yours**

She expected it; waking up all alone. She raised herself to a sitting position on the hammock, waited til it stopped swaying before she hopped out. She smiled as she landed squarely on the ground. _Getting the hang of it already._

She showered, changed, took a deep breathe and tried to inhale courage, if that was at all possible. There was no point hiding in the bedroom, so she padded out softly. She stood in the living room, looked around, everything was how she left it. The same furniture. Same non-existent décor. Same paint. Same people. She heard a familiar voice coming from the kitchen, singing.

She went to investigate and found Sue, her soon to be mother-in-law, preparing lunch. _Gosh, I can't be that late. _

The white-haired woman lifted her eyes from the chopping board and smiled. "You're up early, didn't expect you for another hour or so."

"What time is it?"

"Nine."

She looked confused. "Is that for breakfast or lunch?"

"We had breakfast at six, and that man of yours, four." _That man of yours, not that son of mine. _She was filled with a warm and fuzzy feeling. She smiled.

Sue carried on, "I'm preparing lunch for a big mob. Since his return, it's full steam ahead. He wants to turn Cameron Country back to its working farm origin."

There was so much to do so she offered a helping hand, "Can I help you?"

"Thank you. You can start with the potatoes," pointing to a bucket sitting on the sink. Belle went to scrub the dirt off the potatoes, happy to be useful. "These are Bryce's first project" showing off the garden variety of vegetables.

"Really?" Belle turned a fraction to Sue, "He must be a green thumb."

"Oh yes. He's handy that one." she smiled at Sue's display of obvious motherly pride.

A few minutes later, she was done, "Sue, would you like me to quarter them?"

"No, boil them first, then cut them into quarters, sprinkle with sea salt and herbs, and bake in the oven."

Pots and pans were hanging overhead, typical of a country kitchen. Belle chose a sizeable one, filled it with enough water to cover the potatoes and boiled them in the gas cooker. She asked, "How many people are we feeding?"

"Around 30. How Bryce managed to convinced a bunch of back packers to sleep in the rough I have no idea. They're here to, quote unquote, get a real bush experience. They're camping near Gregory River. These kids have no idea what they're in for." Sue laughed out loud as she mentally pictured the young travelers crawling their way home in sheer exhaustion. "They won't know what hit them."

Listening to Sue, Belle had an "_A hah_" moment. _She's like him. No, he's like her_.

Belle approached the kitchen bench to help cut a variety of vegetables. Finding another chopping board and picking up a knife, she started dicing tomatoes. "Sue..." she said as she tried to initiate a conversation..

The older woman touched her hand and said, "Mum. It's Mum."

Belle reddened, overwhelmed by the warmth of her welcome. "Thanks. Mum, ah... do you also sleep in a hammock?"

Sue snorted. "Me, sleep in a hammock? Let me tell you something, that man of yours takes empathy a little too far. He traveled the world with the Regiment, comes back impressed with how the Third World people lives. Don't get me wrong, it's probably a good idea but in my old age, no way I'm converting." They had a chuckle.

Putting the knife down, Sue said, "You know...I'm glad he found you. I was worried he'll spend the rest of his life alone." She paused before continuing, "Who'd want to live here?"

Belle immediately thought, _Someone insane, like me._

"There's no one around for miles. Shopping for groceries alone is a 740 km round trip." Then Sue cocked her head and gave the red-haired a piercing look, "Are you sure about this? He's asked a lot of you."

Belle answered honestly, "I'm sure about him. But I'm still not sure about Gregory Downs."

The mother smiled, "Sure about him, huh. You're either very brave or very insane or both."

_I'm beginning to come to the same conclusion._

"I understand what you mean," Sue continued. "None of his siblings want Cameron Country either. I mean they like it as a place to escape to on occasion. But as a means of livelihood? Only Bryce wants it. He's very stubborn, that man of yours. I've asked him to give it up. It's bloody hard work, Belle. And I'm not sure there's money in it. He's sunk everything he has into turning this into a working farm again. I'm worried. Maybe you can talk him out of it?"

Her eyes widened, "Mum, you're asking a lot. I think I have a better chance of promoting world peace than talking him out of what he's got his mind on."

"You're right. Billy and Raf didn't even try. Useless sods." Sue looked at the wall clock, "He'll be announcing himself soon. Been out on the paddock since crack of dawn."

_Announcing himself_. Belle smiled, "I find it quite nice when he says, 'Mum, I'm home' as he walks in the door."

"He never used to. He's like a ghost that man of yours. He used to disappear and reappear at will. One day, he came back. No one knew. I came out of the room after an afternoon nap. Found him standing there," she pointed at the living room, "looking like a zombie. He had an arm sling, full beard and long hair; lost 10 kilos, his camo hanging on him. I didn't bloody recognise him. I had a fright, I came close to a heart attack."

"Oh no." she gasped.

"From then on, he announces himself. He came so close to becoming an orphan."

Going back to the task at hand, Belle said, "How much of these tomatoes should I cut?"

"The whole thing."

"There's probably 10 kilos in this basket?"

"Trust me, these blokes would be very hungry they could eat a horse. Farming is bloody hard work." Done with the lettuce, Sue put it aside and started with the cucumber.

"Mum, tell me about Gregory Downs." Sue was compelling story teller. _Who better to educate me?_

Sue smiled, her face registered unbridled pride on her place in the sun, "Well, we have to start with the source of life in Gregory Downs, the Gregory River. One of the few flowing rivers in Australia. It rises from underground limestone springs close to the Northern Territory border, about 50km North of Camooweal and joins the Nicholson River to flow into the Gulf to Carpentaria near Burketown."

Belle made a mental note, _Northern Territory, Camowell? Nicholson River, Gulf of Carpenter? Burketown. _Later in the day she'll search them online.

"Ask Bryce to take you. The crystal clear running water is fringed with Pandanus palms, Livistona palms, Leichhardt trees, paperbark trees, fig trees. Trust me, it's a picturesque oasis in the open plains.

"The Gregory River is well known for the canoe race held on the May Day weekend and it's a great camping spot for travelers on the way to Lawn Hill Gorge and Boodjamulla National Park. And great spot for Bryce's labourers." Sue bellowed in laughter again.

"After the Second World War, Bryce's grandfather bought a parcel of land, 150,000 acres in size from the Watson Brothers who were pioneers of the land. That's a little over 4,000 square metres. Not a lot by any farm size. Very puny.

"Three Watson brothers left Upper Murray in Victoria in 1876 to settle on the Gregory River at Gregory Downs, arriving in August 1877. The holding the Watsons selected embraced the present day "Gregory Downs", "Planet Downs", "Kunkulla", "Kamarga" and "Yeldham" and comprised around 1,000 square miles capable of carrying 24,000 cattle. The property had a complete frontage and some double frontage to the Gregory River with a flow that never changed except as a result of wet season rains.

"The properties changed hands a number of times, until more recently in 2009, it was sold to the Macquarie Pastrol Company Fund (Paraway Pastrol). The Company has made an approach to Bryce. Offering good money if you ask me, but that man of yours wouldn't budge." Sue sighed.

"His siblings aren't interested in the land nor the money. He's the one who laboured over it so they said he could keep the money. But knowing Bryce, he'll give a share to his siblings.

"Four thousand square metres isn't much, Belle, for farming. But he has ideas, sustainable farming he said. He's a romantic dreamer. Someone has to knock some sense into him."

Belle replied, "There's little chance that that's me." She thought, _God what a scary combination. Warrior and romantic dreamer._ _I think I should bail._.

"So did they all grow up here?"

"Oh no, but we visited Nanna and Grandpa Cameron often. We moved from camp to camp all over the country. My husband was a serving officer of the RAAF, Army. But the romance of this place always had a pull on Bryce. My husband and I retired here 10 years ago, that's when he became really attached to it."

They heard a vehicle screeched to a stop in front of the homestead, "Bryce?" she asked.

"Nah, that man of yours, you wouldn't know he's arrived. That's Billy. Everyone knows she's arrived." They laughed. And sure enough, the tiny dynamo has returned, "Mum... Mum."

"I'm in the kitchen and there's no need to bloody holler."

Billy rushed to the kitchen. She suddenly put her brakes on when she saw the red-haired beauty. "Hey, didn't expect you to be up yet?" She smiled, then hugged her soon to be sister-in-law. Sue shook her head and said, "Now, you've made a mess of her. Look at yourself."

The tiny one looked down on herself, shrugged and said, "Fact of life."

"What have to been doing?"

"Driving the tractor."

Sue was horrified, "And Bryce let you? What do you know about driving tractors?"

"None three hours ago but lots now." Belle and Sue locked eyes in disbelief at the news.

"What are you doing here anyway?"

"To get the food back to the paddock."

"Aren't you guys coming here to eat?"

"Nah, driving back here, that's waste of time. Best we bring the food to them." Just then the potatoes boiled. Belle turned off the gas, drained the water out.

Sue groaned loudly, "We're not done yet, you can help though. There's still celery and capsicum to cut and carrots to grate."

"Ok, give me a chopping board and a knife."

"We're using them... here grate the carrots," Sue passed on a grater to Billy.

Belle came back to the kitchen bench with potatoes ready to quarter. "I don't think we have time to bake them, but I can make potato salad if you have enough mayo and dijon mustard."

"There's heaps in the pantry, that door over there." She went over and even found sweet pickles. _Great_. She heard Sue say, "Use the aluminium disposable trays."

Belle laid six trays on the dining table. Quickly peeled and quartered the potatoes while they were still warm and divided them up evenly among six. Added mayo to each till they were moist. Seasoned them with salt and pepper, added chopped pickles. Chopped some celery, sprinkled them on top and added Dijon Mustard. She found some parsley and red onion, she chopped them finely, sprinkled them on. Chopped six red capsicums and mixed them in. Result: six trays of potato salad.

"I forgot the eggs," she said a little deflated.

"No worries," said Billy, "Bryce's chooks have been popping them out like crazy." She opened the fridge, "How many do you want, sista?"

"Two dozen I think should do it." She boiled them, while waiting she helped with the rest of the vegetables.

Sue, feeling defeated over the amount of food preparation, stopped. "We won't cut the fruit. We're running out of time." She sighed, "This is impossible. After lunch, we'll have to start on dinner for the guys."

Billy said, "Don't look at me, I'm busy helping Bryce." The tiny one grinned cheekily, "Here's the carrots, I'm done. You ladies are too slow. I'll load the drinks, fruit and sandwiches. The salad better be ready when I'm done."

Sue shook her head at her youngest and said, "I don't know how Raf puts up with her. It would be good for them to move back to Toronto. When Bryce is around, she unmanageble."

"What do you mean?"

"There are only two men who let Billy get away with murder. My dearly beloved husband, may he rest in peace, and Bryce. There's a 12 year gap between them, from the day she was born, Bryce had been like a second father to her. The two of them spoiled Billy and led her to a life of criminal intent."

The eggs boiled. Belle drained the hot water, replaced it with cold and immediately cracked the shell, burning her fingers. It took her just 10 minutes to shell two dozen eggs, a world record.

Sue tossed a mountain of salad, divided them into seven trays. She didn't bother dressing them, instead she asked Billy to box the bottles of various dressings, "Easier that way."

Belle diced the eggs and garnished them into the six trays of potato salad, wrapped them securely. Then the women loaded them in the Ute.

All of a sudden, she remembered someone, "Where 's Rajo, Mum?"

The matriarch groaned, "There's another one... Bryce let him off his home-school routine. Out in the paddock with his old man." She muttered under her breath, "Good luck with that man of yours."

_Oh dear._


	8. The Promise

**The Promise**

"Come on, hurry up," says the demanding driver. Billy couldn't wait to move their assess.

"Hold on, wait a minute, the world's not gonna end in 60 seconds," replied Sue, "We need plastic plates and forks." Sue went back inside. Belle followed, "Let me help you."

From the pantry, Sue took out a big plastic container, "Everything's in here," she said. She also gave the red-head a straw hat, "Never leave the house without it. A ranga and very fair skin, bad combination around here."

"'Ranga'?"

Sue smiled, "It means red hair." She laughed, _It's all so quirky._

Sue sat in the front passenger seat, Belle occupied a seat in the second cabin. Billy left the windows down, "It's a short trip," she said, "Not a good idea to use air conditioning, it'll get you sick, going from hot to cold, then hot again."

Belle used her straw hat to fan herself, in the mid-afternoon, the heat was oppressive. Sue turned to inspect her, "Dear, dear. You looked like a cooked lobster already. Here's water, drink" She handed her a bottle. "There are only two seasons in the Gulf Savannah, wet and dry seasons. From November to April is wet season, with frequent cyclonic events between December and March. Dry season is May to October. I'm afraid, at certain time of the year, temperature can get up to 40 °C (104 °F).

"She's lying," said Billy. "It gets hotter than 40." She drank a mouthful of water and a huge heap of regret, _What have I done_?

Billy slowed the Ute, "Belle, look there..." pointing to something coiled in the middle of the road, "Carpet python, don't worry if you see one of those, they're not poisonous." The snake was olive green, with pale, dark-edged blotches. "Sometimes the skin can be stripes or cross-bands."

The flame-haired lass swallowed, not exactly what she wanted to see on her first outing. "How long do they get?"

"Only up to 3 metres (9.84 feet) fully mature," answered Billy. Toronto felt so much safer.

Sue made a comment to Billy, "Where are you going? This isn't the way to the paddock."

"To the river," she smiled. The tiny one looked at Belle from the rear view mirror, "It's the best time to see it, when the wet comes, the river overflows and most of the beautiful things you'd see would be underwater.

"This part of the river is on the property, that's where the back packers are camped at the moment. They'll all be moving on in about two weeks...on to better climate and better things." Belle looked out the windows and felt the intense heat, but the scenery outside was surreal. Moments later, she heard Billy say, "We're here."

Camped under the shades were Bryce's seasonal workers, in swimming costumes, but he and Rajo were nowhere to be seen. She heard Sue say "Work's finished. In this part, you start early and finish early. It's just much too hot in the middle of the day. Then, they start again after five, if there's anything else to do."

They served food from the back of the Ute. Billy told every one to return the plates and forks in the box, "They're recylable so don't throw them out."

Billy watched her glance around, "Looking for Bryce?"

"And Rajo," she replied.

"I'm guessing they've gone fishing and Raf's gone with them. There's a lot of Barramundi around here if you know where to look." They looked up as young people ventured into the river for a swim, Billy hollered a reminder, "Watch out for freshies."

Billy turned back to her "Freshies are freshwater crocs, don't worry... they don't eat humans. Speaking of eating, we better get some down you. What would you like?"

"Sandwich would do." Sue handed out the sandwiches and the three of them found themselves sitting on the back of the Ute.

From a distant they saw a mud-covered four wheel drive approaching. It stopped next to the Ute, Rajo jumped down excitedly, "Nan, we caught a lot of fish." The men appeared with a bucket each full of barramundi. Billy jumped down, wrapped her arms around Raf.

Bryce put the bucket down to help Sue off the back of the Ute, while Rajo offered to help her get down.

Raf came over to greet her, "Hi, good to see you." She returned the smile.

"How was Toronto?"

"Same as always, cold as ice," they laughed as they reminisced about their place of origin. They watched contentedly as Rajo was all excited, "Dad, are we cooking the fish now?"

"Sure, why not?" Every one gathered around as they watched Bryce effortlessly removed the scales and gut the catch with a knife, "Who wants to give it a try?" A fearless German tourist volunteered. Under Bryce's watchful eyes, he succeeded

"Easy, next?" Nearly every one had a go.

"Let's gather wood." Bryce got up and Rajo followed like a puppy. Soon, a cooking pit was dug and fire was going.

Belle walked to a spot under a tree and sat to admire the river, free flowing and teeming with fishes. The bank opposite blanketed in grass. Moments later, Rajo slid down next to her, "Hey," he said. "I brought you something to eat." She accepted a barramundi skewered in a stick. She pinched a small amount, tried it, "Um, it's delicious."

"Because it's very fresh," he said.

"Aren't you having any?"

"I've had one already."

The fish was stuffed with tomatoes and red onions, cooked slowly over the fire. "Where did you get the stuffing?" she asked as she swatted the flies that were attracted to her food.

"From the salad, we picked them off " he said with a laugh. While she ate, the boy laid on the ground, his fingers interlocked behind his head. Although his eyes were closed, he must have been waiting for her to finish because as soon as she picked the fish closed to the bone, he asked, "Belle, tell me about your life BGD."

"BGD?"

He opened his eyes, "Before Gregory Downs," he replied. She chuckled,

"Toronto, it is very cold and windy."

"Is it as cold as eating snow cones?"

"Colder," she said. Then she told him about ice skating in the park in the winter and swimming in the lakes in summer. She told him about the offices in high rise buildings she went to for work; and a little of what she did for a living BGD.

He sat up and said, "Ok, thank you."

"Don't you want to hear the rest?"

He squinted at her. Wrinkled his nose. Then shook his head, "Ah no..." he said. "You're life BGD is kinda boring." The child's honesty was brutal, she laughed out loud and thought what hope has she got when even an eight year old thought her life was boring.

"What's funny?" They turned around to find Bryce towering behind them. Rajo took his chance to escape; he scrambled to his feet and rushed off to Billy and Raf.

Bryce sat next to her. "Nothing, just that Rajo told me my life BGD was boring." He laughed, his handsome face brightened.

They were quiet for a moment, then unexpectedly, he said, "We have to set a date for the wedding." She looked at him, unable to respond. She turned away and exhaled, the air seemed heavy and oppressive. He took it to mean she was uncertain. "You're having doubts?"

He picked up soil and ran the granules through his fingers, "I suppose I don't blame you."

She turned to him again, "I'm sure about you," she said. "I'm just not sure about Gregory Downs."

"That's what Mum said." Then he said something that totally blew her away. "Give it a year, Pixie, After a year, if you still don't want to live here, we'll sell the land. I'll pack it all in, we'll move where you want and we'll do what you want to do. It's a promise. I give you my word."

She was rendered speechless. He waited for a response. She studied the ebony coloured, sculptured face with bluey green eyes and said, "What about your dream for Cameron Country?"

"I don't see the point if I'm just doing it for myself," he said.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said, "So, I'm asking again... will you marry me?" She had no doubt it took a whole heap of courage for him to ask her again.

She felt for the twine ring in her finger, and thought, _Why the hell not?_ She replied, "Yes." His eyes softened, they mirrored relief and joy. He reached to touch her slender neck, "There's only one date for the wedding, it's seven month away."

"In May?"

"Fifth of May, Mum's birthday, everyone's home. But we can get married at the local registry next week."

"Would that be necessary?"

"Yeah, so I don't have to worry about you changing your mind," he winked. He got up and pulled her up to him, hugged her possessively. Then, the unthinkable happened.

The phone …. it was ringing.

He slowly released her, she tensed. The wolf's breathing slowed. Not taking his eyes off her, he pulled the phone out of his pocket, then turned and walked away slowly.

He said just one word, "Wolf." Then there was nothing.

He closed the phone, turned back to her and said, "I'm going for a few days." She felt chills up and down her spine.

"When?"

"In two days, so we're getting married tomorrow."

That night, lying next to him, she struggled to go to sleep. Her life went from one extreme to the other; from boring to overly exciting. She listened to the hum of the air-conditioning, hoping it would lull her to sleep but to no avail.

Turning to lie on top of him, she felt his hand up and down her back, "Talk to me," he said.

"What do you want me say?"

"What's worrying you?"

"That I don't know where you're going and for how long?"

"Trust me. I'll be home before you know it."

"Is that a promise?"

"Promise."


	9. I Want to Know What Love Is

_Author's Note: For back story: I'm afraid if you want to truly appreciate this chapter, you must read, "Full Metal Jacket."_

**I Want to Know What Love Is**

He was tugging her ear, she did eventually fall asleep! Much to her surprise.

"Wakey, wakey."

She opened her eyes and closed them again in a split second, it was too bright. She heard him chuckle. It was so nice just to stay curled up in the hammock till he reminded her that TODAY they were getting married. She smiled under her hand, then the smile froze in shock when he announced, "Town mayor has arrived for the ceremony."

"What?" He was peering down at her laughing at her reaction, "You're joking again. Stop it."

"I'm not... he's outside. Everyone's waiting for us. Come on, up." _It must be true, he's dressed_, meaning he has a shirt on and he's wearing a reasonably good pair of jeans although still barefoot. He scooped her out of the hammock and showed her to the shower.

He left her there to mind her own business and joined the family and their guests waiting for the ceremony to start. Half an hour later, Billy asked him to check in on Belle, "She might have bolted, probably woke up to her senses," she joked. Bryce put her in a headlock.

"Let me go," she said. "My husband will kill you."

"Raf? Raf will kill me?" he tightened his hold. "Raf, what do you say?"

"Keep her in headlock, you're doing a fine job," said the hunky Canuck.

"I swear I will fu..." Bryce covered her mouth.

"You filthy mouth, my son is here." Rajo blurted out to everyone's mocked horror, "I know what she's going to say Dad, it's ok, no harm done." Raf rolled his eyes, _Oh oh_.

Bryce look down on the small head in his arm, "What have you been teaching my son when I'm not here?"

"Nothing, just adding to his expanding vocabulary."

Sue ended the siblings' carousing, "It's getting late, we gotta get this ceremony underway, go get Belle."

"Ok... love you, Billy" he said before letting her go.

"Love you, too."

He quietly entered the room, Belle was standing amongst her clothes wrapped only in a bath towel. "You're certainly taking your time," he said.

"I don't have anything to wear."

"You don't have to wear anything," he replied with a wink.

"Don't be silly," she said pouting. "I can't believe you did this to me. Who ever gets married with 24 hour notice?"

"Twelve," he said.

"Twelve?"

"Twelve hours since I organised this, and you're so worth it." He hugged her and kissed the top of her head. "Come on, I'll help you put something together."

"There's really nothing," she said. "I came here with just a backpack, that's the extent of my wardrobe."

His eyes twinkled, he remembered a large white soft muslin sheet he bought while he was serving in East Timor. He went to the closet, "I've got a solution."

She put on her undies whilst he rummaged in his wardrobe, "Got it."

"Sorry, no bra," he said.

Her eyes widened, "Mr Bryce Cameron, I am not in the habit of..."

"Sssh," he said. "Let me show you."

He removed her bra then expertly wrapped her with in the white muslin cloth, similar in style to how Indonesian women wore their tube sarong. "Done."

Intrigued, she eyed him suspiciously, "Did you used to dress someone?"

He laughed, "I used to wear one. Men also wear sarong in East Timor, the best thing in hot, humid condition. No, I didn't used to dress someone."

He led her in front of the mirror, she had to admit that the free flowing material looked exquisite on her.

He brushed her long red hair, and braided it in French style. "A flower is all you need."

He had an idea, he opened the bedroom window and reached out to an overhanging frangipani branch, plucked out a flower and pinned it on her hair. "You're very pretty."

"And you're so amazing. Is there anything you can't do?" He smiled broadly, the handsome face with the smiling eyes melted her heart.

A door knock, followed by a small voice, "Dad?"

"Coming."

They walked out together. Except for Sue, Billy, Raf and Rajo she didn't know any of the visitors but she recognised Pong and Squat.

The man she knew only as "Pong" turned out to be the Town Mayor, he stood in front of them as the rest gathered around. "Normally, it's required for people who are getting married in Australia to provide a copy of birth certificate and photo identification. If you were not born in Australia, as in the case of beautiful Belle, to provide a foreign passport instead of a birth certificate."

He paused, "Instead, ladies and gentlemen... what I got yesterday was a scanned copy with a scribbled note. I printed it out for all of you to see," he waved it around.

"It says, 'You've known me all my bloody life so certify it.'" Every one laughed.

"Two, complete a Notice of Intended Marriage form and lodge it with the celebrant at least one month and one day before the wedding date. People, we all know Bryce Mabo Cameron is not big on protocol so..." he whipped out a crumpled form from his back pocket, "let's do it now shall we?" Everyone clapped. Raf walked forward to hand Bryce a pen. The couple filled up the form.

"Three, sign a declaration indicating that there are no impediments to you being married."

He looked on Bryce and Belle who told the gathered crowd there were none. Pong produced another form, "Sign here." But to Belle he said, "Miss Gallagher, before you sign I want to advice you that he's a lunatic and that's ground enough not to marry him." She smiled and signed anyway.

"Ok," said the Town Mayor, "You've been warned. There are no divorces in Cameron Country. You'd have to go all the way to Rome to have this marriage annulled when you've had enough."

Pong made a show of comparing Belle's signature with those on her passport, "I just want to make sure she's not signing under duress." Then he said in mocked relief, "Well, it appears she's signed on her own free will."

He looked at Bryce, a life-long friend. They've known each other since kindergarten. "Mate, I didn't think I'd ever see the day. It's amazing, man. You deserve to be happy."

Then, he turned to Belle, "You're one heck of a courageous sheila."

To the crowd he said, "Ok, let's get this show underway. _I am duly authorized by law to solemnize marriages according to law. Before you are joined in marriage in my presence and in the presence of these witnesses, I am to remind you of the solemn and binding nature of the relationship into which you are now about to enter. Marriage, according to law in Australia, is the union of a man and a woman to the exclusion of all others, voluntarily entered into for life__."_

He passed the couple a sheet of type-written paper. Reading from it, Bryce said, _"I call upon the persons here present to witness that I, Bryce Mabo Cameron, take you, Belle Gallagher to be my lawful wedded wife."_

When it was Belle's turn, she looked at her man and said, "_I call upon the persons here present to witness that I, Belle Gallagher take you, Bryce Mabo Cameron to be my lawful wedded husband_."

The ceremony done, they enjoyed brunch, after all it was only 10 in the morning. She mingled with the guests and discovered that many drove great distances to get to Cameron Country. Many suggested that they didn't come to see Bryce, instead they wanted to meet the crazy woman who agreed to marry him.

Around 11, Bryce came out of their bedroom wearing his combat boots and lugging a backpack. Her heart thumped, she thought the worse, _He can't be going already_. He read her mind, smiled and said, "I'm taking you away from all these maddening people."

"Sorry guys to leave you so soon..."

"No worries," said Squat, another long-life mate. "There's booze and food...what more can I man want? Seriously, you guys stay safe, ok?"

"Thanks, mate."

"Need a lift?"

"Yeah... to the river's edge, thanks Raf."

"No worries."

The three of them walked to the Ute, nearly every one followed them out. Belle thought it was surreal, like a scene from a movie. They waved to their guests who waved back perched on window sill, steps, tree branches, or just standing happy to see them off.

Bryce gave Raf the direction, "Pick us up tomorrow around 5pm."

"Sure thing."

Moments later, they arrived at the river's edge, "Take care."

"We will. See you tomorrow."

Bryce carried her so she didn't have to step on prickly grass, being barefoot. Raf reversed and waved good-bye.

"Where are we going?"

"To the gorge," he said smiling. He walked with her in his arms, then she saw his canoe on the water. Once they've boarded he took out her crumpled straw hat from the backpack and gave her a bottle of sunscreen. He put his cap on, rubbed a generous amount of sunscreen on him, then said, "Enjoy the view."

He paddled his canoe upstream through Middle Gorge to Indarri Falls. There was only one word to describe the scenery: spectacular. "The trip to the falls is around 3km (1.8m give or take a few) each way. I'll take it slow and easy."

At one point, he stopped paddling and laid to rest. His akubra hat on his face, fingers interlaced beneath his head, one foot rested on the rim of the canoe, the other bent at the knees. Even at rest, he was beautiful to look at. The white shirt showed the muscles that were very well defined. He didn't possess bulging muscles like those of body builders. What he has was form and definition. Toned and tough. Think Greek god, _Poseidon_.

_He must have an internal clock_, she thought. Fifteen minutes later, he was up again, renewed, invigorated. "Let's go."

They reached Indarri Falls two and half hours later, the mid afternoon sun was bright and intense. He gave her a pair of Billy's old walking boots, "One day we'll go to town to get you a pair." He handed her a pair of shorts and button up shirt which she wore easily though still covered in her marriage sarong. Once she removed the material, he folded it and stuffed it in the backpack.

They hopped out, he dragged his canoe to a well hidden patch, then walked towards a slightly steep rock, surrounded by thick vegetation. He turned to her and said, "Look up."

Her face broke into a girlish grin, "Oh my God, a tree house. Did you build it yourself?"

"U hum, but it's a secret. Constructed not to hurt the tree," he said.

Hanging down from the tree house was a knotted hemp rope, he grabbed hold of it. "You know what to do," he said with a wink. She climbed up, fearlessly this time; one hand over the other, using the knots for leverage. He let her get to the tree house before he followed suit.

The tree house was made of planks of wood but no effort was made to make it look so pretty and cosmetic. The planks that made up the base, were of different sizes of recycled timber, jutted out unevenly. The floor boards had different shades which has an appeal all of its own. The walls were made of toughened military canvas, with rudimentary cutouts for windows, protected by mosquito netting sewn into it.

"How did you do it?"

"It wasn't hard, just bit by bit. But once the base was done everything was easy. They sat on the ledge, protected from falling by one bar of wood to rest their arms and chin on. But just to be safe, he put her in a harness. Gazing out, the resulting view was ah, out of this world.

She looked at him and asked again, "Where have you been all my life?"

He grinned, "I already answered that. Next."

Her face resting on her arms folded on that bar of wood, she asked, "Do you love me?"

He gazed at her face, stroked her cheek with a finger, "Have I not told you?"

"Once."

"And you want me to tell you again."

"All women do."

"Ok," he said, "I love you."

She pouted, "Did I just coerce you to say that?"

He laughed, "No. Here is the thing," he said, "If what you mean by love is that I want to protect you, then I really do love you."

"If what you mean by love is that I want to make you happy, then I do love you.

"If what you mean by love is that I always want to see your face, then I do love you.

"If there is any other definition of love I don't know about.. then here's your chance to teach me."

She shook her head, "No... I love you, Bryce Mabo Cameron."

He took a deep breath, "But tomorrow you will begin to hate me."

"No, but I will miss you madly though," she said.

"Wait here," he said. He came back with a guitar, "It's been here for ages," he said. He strummed it, beautifully, his fingers caressing the strings. He started with the refrain, "_I wanna know what love is. I want you to show me. I wanna feel what love is. I know you can show me. Aaaah woah-oh-ooh_."

"Do you remember?" he said.

"Yeah... at Winnie and Spike's house. The day I first met you."

He smiled and sang it from the beginning, his eyes watered when he came to the third verse, "_In my life there's been heartache and pain. I don't know if I can face it again. Can't stop now, I've traveled so far, to change this lonely life."_

The song ended.

"I don't want this day to end," she said tears streaming down her face.

He untethered her from the harness, brought her inside the tree house and made love to her to the sound of the falls and the flapping wings of fairy-wrens and crimson finches sitting on the branches of the trees - mute witnesses to the intensity of their love-making.


	10. Bye for Now and See You Soon

**Bye for Now and See You Soon**

After a shared afternoon delight, Bryce pulled her up. "Let me show you something." They exited the tree house and in typical fashion her man asked what she thought about Tarzan and Jane. She was suddenly freaked out, she gripped his arm, and asked in a raised voice, "You're not thinking of swinging on vines, are you?"

He laughed, kissed her on the mouth and said, "No... just teasing you." She pummeled his chest with her fists, "You're so silly." When she was done "punishing" him, he took her to the back of the tree house via the ledge. Unbeknown to her, it extended to the back narrowing to a bridge-like structure, still made of recycled timber. They walked to the end and came to a crystal clear rock pool carved out of the gorge. An "_Oh_" escaped from the lips. She surveyed the scenery, it was breathtaking. She could hear the falls although she couldn't see it from where they stood. Around the rock pool's fringed were palm trees and flying overhead were birds galore.

"Fancy a swim, Mrs Cameron?"

"Yes, Mr Cameron," she replied, her face all aglow with joy.

They waded in together and waltzed in the water. They spent some time basking in the late afternoon sun until Bryce decided they should return home. She was surprised how cold she'd feel once she was out of the water.

"I'm cold," she said. Bryce suggested they ran back to the tree house to save her from "hypothermia." Once inside, he unzipped the backpack, took out a large bath towel, and covered her in it.

"Hungry?"

Her eyebrows went up, "Yeah, but you're not suggesting we go out hunting for food, right?" He produced a hunting knife from the top pocket of his pack, offered it to her. "I'm catching the birds but you'll be gutting it, equal share of labour."

She refused to take the knife, the very notion of slitting a bird's throat was oh... so... _What's the word? Awful_. She shook her head vigorously and said, "I'd rather stay hungry." He put the knife away laughing. He emptied his pack of their gear, which were mainly few pieces of clothing articles. He looked at her with playful eyes and said, "Ready?"

She tilted her head just so; curious as to what he was on about. He took out plastic containers, one at a time. Taking the lid off each one, he presented her with a smorgasbord of cheeses, crackers, sandwiches, fruit and chocolate.

"Are you ready for a treat?"

She smiled, wondering what else he could possibly conjure out of the backpack. He took out a bottle of red. "A product of Canada," he said. "It better not disappoint."

"I promise it won't," she said. She took the bottle to read the label, she gave it her stamp of approval, "Good choice, Mr Cameron."

"Glad you like it, plus the red is best served at room temperature."

He lifted the lid of an old pirate chest that sat on the corner of the tree house. Intrigued, she came over to see what's in it, but he too fast for her. He took a couple of wine glasses out and closed it quickly.

"Wine glasses? That's all that's in there?"

"Let's eat first then I'll show you." She was happy with that. As she nibbled on cheeses and crackers, she felt overwhelmed with Bryce's preparedness. Someone once told her, "_The man thinks of everything_".

He poured her a glass of wine, raised his own glass for a toast, "To love and a long marriage."

"To love and a long marriage," she echoed back. She took a sandwich, had a bite and asked, "How long have you been planning all this?"

"No plans," he said. "All spur of the moment."

"The tree house?"

"Been here for years... it's one of my boltholes."

"Boltholes?"

He didn't answer. The big man was famish. She let him eat to his heart's content. She silently watched him; then her eyes wandered to the old pirate chest and the secrets it's been holding.

He's an enigma to her... a puzzling man, indeed. It seemed he just materialised in front of her one day; swept her off her feet and suddenly sensibilities deserted her.

"Stop thinking about me for a minute," he said with playful cockiness that made her blush. He laughed again. He reached out to touch her nose, "You're too transparent."

When he's had his fill of food and wine, he opened up. "So you want to know about boltholes.. some of us bastards.. because we have acquired a long list of enemies with long memories, have had to acquire a safe house. Whatever you want to call it... hidey hole, bolthole. In my case, I have safe houses. One in every major cities I've been assigned to because shits can happen anytime, anywhere."

"You mean no one's been here?"

He shook his head, "No... you're the only one. The tree house is well concealed, if I didn't tell you to look up, you'd have missed it."

"You have everything here to survive?"

He nodded.

"That old chest thing has everything you need?"

He nodded again.

_It's like extracting teeth getting information from this man. _She sighed, "Can I see what's in it?"

"On one condition... afterward... if you're afraid of me, you have to tell me."

"Why would I be afraid of you?"

"'Cause Pixie, I'm not a saint. I was a soldier, I have blood in my hands."

"I know," she said.

He opened the old chest. He took the contents one by one, starting with Australian Army rations. He set aside two, "We'll have it for lunch tomorrow, just so you know what it taste like." She wrinkled her nose, she has a feeling she wasn't going to like it.

He chuckled, "You're too cute."

He named each item as they came out of the old chest. "Bino. Head torch. Spare batteries." That reminded him, he replaced them with newer ones from his pack. "Old spare batteries are no good," he said.

Then he continued his inventory, he lined them up neatly. _The__ man is anal about order and neatness._ "GPS. Silva compass, for when satellites aren't available. Duct tape, don't leave home without it. Bungee cord. Collapsible shovel. Medi packs. Gortex bags. Waterproof anoraks. Blanket. Hammock." He set this aside, too.

"Moving on... sleeping bag. Leatherman pocket knife. Swiss army knife. AK 47 short, very dependable. You can neglect it for years and it would still fire. Ammunition. Flash bangs. Grenade. Epipens. Grappling hook. Passports. Money, green bucks because it's the world's currency."

When he was done, he looked at her intently, smirked and remarked that a man doesn't need much to survive.

He put them back one by one. She wondered if they'd all fit back in. Most people have that problem, she certainly has. On many occasion, after she's take an item out of a box, she could not for the life of her understand why it can't ever fit back in. _The box seemed to be too small to hold all the items. _ But to her surprised they all fitted in nicely. She smiled and conceded that she was indeed of little faith.

A little troubled, she asked, "So are we in danger?"

The Wolf's eyes seemed to change color, "Not if I could help it," he said. She didn't doubt him.

"What's the craziest thing you've ever done?"

He didn't have to think too hard for an answer. "Jump from 35,000 feet (11,000 miles) on a military insertion into Afghanistan. It was a high opening, high altitude parachute jump. I was last man out."

"Last man out?"

"The guys with the most experienced always jump off the plane either first or last. First because he has to act as point man for the Troop. The last because doesn't have anyone to watch his back."

"I don't like it," she said softly.

"Me neither," he said. "It's stomach turning even for the highly trained and skilled. But fear is good because it makes you careful."

Next, she asked about his tattoos. "The big one on your back, what is it?"

"It's the Tasmanian Tiger so-called because of it's striped back. But it's native Australian wolf. Not around anymore. They're extinct. The last one died in the Tasmanian Zoo back in the 1930s."

"That's sad," she said.

His chest has the initials BMC tattooed on it; and on his left arm, "Rajo".

"Will you get more tattoos?"

"All my children will be on the left arm. Where do you think I should have your name?"

She blushed, "I don't think it's necessary," she said.

He laughed, "I can think of somewhere appropriate but you might think it's obscene." She covered her face in embarrassment, "Don't be silly."

"I've been way passed silly for years," he said grinning.

Changing the topic, she asked, "Did you study music?"

"No, I play by ear. We can all sing and play an instrument. All self-taught. We were all accidental Suzuki music students. What about you? What's your artistic pursuit?"

She tucked one foot under her while the other was bent at the knees, she rested her chin on her knee and sighed, "I haven't done it for two years... I like to dance."

"What dance form?"

"Ballet."

He closed his eyes, it suddenly dawned on him what he should have known all along. _How could I be so daft?_ The way she carried herself, regal and poised. The way she unconsciously stand with her feet forming the letter "T". The elegance with which she held her head and neck... so beguiling and dainty.

And for someone so tiny, how she has such strength in her pelvic area and abdominal muscles. He smiled and said, "I should have guessed."

They talked well into the night, until they got very sleepy. Bryce rigged up the hammock from his survival war chest and they feel asleep curled up together.

Minutes and hours passed.

A creature of habit, Bryce laid awake from four in the morning. He glanced at the woman by his side and smiled. Shifting his position from supine to his side, he affectionately put an arm and a leg around her. Deliberately, he pressed his limbs on her on their full weight.

She lifted his arm off her, and complained sleepily, "Your arm's too heavy." Next, she removed his leg. He put his arm back on her, she removed it again. He put his leg on her, she removed it again. On the third repeat, she annoyingly beat on his arm which made him cackle.

She pouted, making a big show of her upset. "Ok," he said. He kissed the top of her head and left her be. But now she's lost her desire for sleep too.

"What time is it?" she asked.

He consulted his Baby G, a Casio el-cheapo. "4:30"

She groaned, "Life with you certainly doesn't include sleep ins."

Then the quiet was disturbed by a ringing sound and a blinking light. They sat up on the hammock. Her eyes rested on the phone that he left lying on the floor, she stared transfixed. Pulse racing. Breathing uneven. He watched her stare at the phone. Then he effortlessly climbed down the hammock to answer it.

"Wolf," he walked out of the tree house, stood on the ledge and hissed, "You've got to be fucking kidding me." He turned around to find her watching, undoubtedly she heard what he just said. His shoulders stiffened and he cursed some more. Finally, he said, "Alright...done."

Her eyes betrayed her emotion, fear and sadness. "I'm sorry Pixie but my departure has been moved forward by five hours. We have to go at nine, then we'll take our time on the river."

"I understand," she said bravely. What else could she do? Didn't he warn her about this?

"Let's make every minute count," he said by way of encouragement.

"Yeah... so here's a real test for the man who thinks of everything. I want coffee," she said in an effort to cajole herself into a good mood.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously."

"That's easy." He produced, from the side pocket of his backpack satchels of coffee, powdered cream and a backpacker's mini gas stove; and of course his billy can. She laughed, "Oh my God," she said. "I don't believe you."

"Let's see, I was a soldier at 17. Passed selection with the SAS at 25. If I couldn't packed well enough to go camping, I'm seriously fucked. It's nothing to be impressed about."

"That's where you're wrong" she said in earnest, "You're special. Very special."

"For that Mrs Cameron, you have to be rewarded." He kissed her deeply then withdrew, "I better keep my hands off you or I'll be wanting to shag you again." She giggled, he could be utterly deliciously unregenerate.

They had another swim in the rock pool in the morning after coffee. Then with much regret, bade goodbye to their bolthole in the gorge.

True to his word, Bryce took his time paddling the canoe, he called Raf to pick up Belle at mid-day and apologised for the change of plans. He, on the other hand, would be picked up too at the river's edge. "There's no time to lose," he was told. His brow knitted, all this need-to-know was getting to his nerves.

When they arrived at the river's edge, two vehicles were waiting. The familiar beat up Ute and a top-end, late model Range Rover. Raf and the other fellow were both leaning on the hood of their respective vehicle, suspiciously eying each other.

Bryce helped Belle out of the canoe, put his backpack in the front seat with her. He dragged his canoe out of the water. Raf helped him get it to the back of the utility truck.

"Thanks, mate. Look after her."

"No worries," replied the Canadian laconically.

He walked to the passenger seat, tapped on the window. She rolled it down, and tearfully said goodbye to her husband of less than 24 hours. Her heart constricted with great sadness.

"Don't cry," he said. "I'll be back before you know it."

"See you soon," she said.

"Yeah, I'll see you soon." He kissed her then playfully chewed her bottom lip. Then at the same time, they said "I love you" to each other.

The driver of the other vehicle waited patiently. Finally, he tore himself from Belle and walked purposefully towards the Range Rover. _Better get this over and done with_, he thought. He climbed on board. The soldier in him took over, "Let's roll," he said.

The four wheel drive headed south while the Ute headed north. Bryce and Belle eyed each other's receding image from the rear view mirror.


	11. Darker than Black

TV Shows » Flashpoint » **Cameron Country**

Author: Angelinsydney

Rated: T - English - Romance/Adventure - Reviews: 196 - Published: 02-22-13 - Updated: 05-20-13

id:9037860

_Author's Note: I write in a serial fashion for continuity sake but in this instance please remember this story follows 'Full Metal Jacket' and precedes 'September Child'. _

_For back stories: In my fictional world, Sgt Greg Parker is the head of START (Special Terror Alert Response Team) as well as the Police Academy. First Officer Jonah Chua was Spike's replacement at the SRU during his six months absence. For back story: please read the multi-chapter story 'The Long Shadow of Michaelangelo...'_

_Ben Mabo Cameron first appeared in 'Treasures' and hunky Banjo Mabo Cameron first appeared in 'Zulu'. _

_The chapters about Bryce and Spike mission will be based on modern day reality, backed by research, however, it's still a figment of my rich imagination. Any semblance to real events, people and places are co-incidental._

**Darker than Black**

Sue was waiting for her. The motherly figure was sitting on an old rocking chair on the veranda of the homestead; she stood up as soon as Raf hit the brake. Driver and passenger both got out at the same time but Raf went around to her side to take the backpack off her. He gave Sue a kiss on the cheek then left the two women to themselves.

Crossing the threshold from veranda to living room, he heard a voice, "Hey Uncle Raf, where's my Dad?"

He gave the boy a head rub, "He's gone for a little while." The boy felt instantly deflated. He looked forward to spending the rest of his life, as he often told anyone who cared to listen, with his Dad and now he's gone without saying good-bye.

Raf's phone giggled in his pocket, he fished it out, smiled and said, "It's your Dad."

He gave the phone to Rajo who inflated immeasurably, "Hey Dad, where are you?"

"I'm needed somewhere. Sorry I couldn't say good-bye, it's an emergency."

"It's ok Daddy, I'm glad you called."

Raf smiled to himself. Thinking how he missed this bit of his relationship with his own father.

"Look after Belle for me ok. When I'm not there you're the man of the house."

"Yeah, I'll be sure to look after her for you. I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too."

The Wolf closed the phone. The driver glanced at him briefly. Bryce didn't offer to explain nor did he apologise for the "unmanly" expression of love.

Rajo went outside to find Sue consoling a very upset Belle. He went over to them, held Belle's hand and said, "Don't cry, I'll look after you." It made Belle laugh in spite of her tears. Sue put an arm around her, "Help me with dinner."

They still had an army to feed, the backpackers, Bryce's seasonal workers would not be moving on for another two weeks. Belle nodded, happy to have something to distract her.

Meantime, the Wolf was being driven to Gregory Downs Airport. The obscure airstrip even has it's own IATA and ICAO codes (GGD and YGDS) though it didn't have regular airlines servicing it. On stand-by was an AS350BA Squirrel, a helicoptor from the Royal Australian Navy Fleet.

Bryce exhaled silently as soon as he spotted the French-manufactured Eurocopter. What hope he had of this mission being scrapped at the last minute evaporated.

Somewhere in Toronto, Michaelangelo "Spike" Scarlatti was summoned into the head office of **START** (Special Terror Alert Response Team). He was delighted to be invited to the hollowed office of the Big Boss, not that his current immediate superior was anything like little boss. There was nothing little about Sgt Ed Lane both in the physical sense or in his personality. But Sgt Greg Parker was, to Spike, larger than life. More than a Boss, he was a father figure and a steadying hand to men he led.

"Hey, Boss," he said as he entered the conference room. His smile though faded quickly when he saw Director Blake Hinton, the silvery-head top honcho of Canada's intelligence agency, CSIS, seated opposite Parker.

His former Boss beamed at him, the round face signaling to him to take a seat.

Not long after his ass landed on the upholstered chair, Parker's Chief of Staff, a former SRU Team One member materialised from a back room with a briefing note. First Officer Jonah Chua subbed for Spike at the SRU during his six months absence while training with the FBI at Quantico, Virginia on counter terrorism.

Chua gave him a friendly nod of acknowledgment as he handed him the one page brief, then he left quickly, shutting the door behind him. Spike had a sudden onset of claustrophobia.

"What's this about?" he asked even as his eyes scanned the page.

"It's a top secret mission that requires utmost secrecy and deniability."

"What's this got to do with me?"

"We need a geek with combat skills. And you fit the bill." Dir Hinton paused for his silent consideration.

"We can pluck a geek from Toronto University, vet him and put him to work. He could probably do it as effortlessly as you can but whether we can make him combat ready is another matter."

Parker gave him the low down of the mission. Spike sat listening intently, but still disbelieving what he was hearing; from what little he's been told, it's a mission from hell. The two men were sufficiently clear though that they've considered many candidates but came up with only one suitable: him.

"What's with Yoh Lin? He's a geek and a CSIS officer." Mentally, it was all he could do to stave off the proposed mission.

Hinton answered, "He's currently in another continent on a long-term assignment, we can't pull him out at this late stage."

"I'd like to think about it," he said. His first thought was Winnie, he can't be thinking only of himself now.

"You can't think about it too long," said Hinton. "We want the mission underway in 48 hours. That's when you rendezvous with your partner."

"Who's the other guy if you don't mind me asking?"

"You've collaborated with him before. And he was, as I understand it, your house guest not too long ago."

"Wolf Cameron?" his brows knitted, "He's out of the Regiment."

"Out of the regular regiment." Hinton clarified.

"There's an irregular one?" asked Spike with a measure of skepticism.

"Don't we all?" answered Parker.

"A darker shade of black ops, you mean." Hinton and Parker both smiled knowingly. _Fuck me, how much darker could that be_, Spike thought.

Bryce belted himself into the passenger seat of the Eurocopter. He didn't inquire where they were heading, but by the direction it was flying it knew it was headed straight out to sea, the Coral Sea to be precise. He hazarded a guess. He would soon be a "guest" in a Frigate Helicopter (FFH). The Royal Australian Navy currently uses the Anzac Class FFH, based on the German Meko 200 frigate design.

Anzacs are long-range escorts with roles including air defence, anti submarine warfare, surveillance, reconnaissance and interdiction. He revisited some facts stored in his brain, _it has to be the HMAS Toowoomba. _This frigate was fitted with an advanced package of air and surface surveillance radars, omni-directional hull mounted sonar, a Mine Obstacle Avoidance Sonar and electronic support systems which interface with the state-of-the-art 9LV453 Mk3 combat data system.

Right now, he thought grimly, his task master is on-board that ship waiting to feed him his mission details.

Bryce blocked out his mind. There was no use worrying, pre-supposing or even contemplating what hell lies before him. He closed his eyes, with disciplined effort he relaxed himself enough to fall asleep.

Belle and Sue found themselves alone again in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for a caesar salad. Tonight's menu included a giant pot of rice, a giant pot of chicken curry, salad and for dessert, Sue planned on baking carrot cake, to be served topped with ice cream.

She planned it deliberately. The more work they had to do in the kitchen, the less opportunity Belle has to mope and to pine for her husband.

Belle glanced up at Sue in the middle of slicing cucumber, "Mum, tell me about your other children."

Her mother-in-law smiled. "Well, there's my eldest Benjamin who's the Australian Military Attache in Washington DC. He's 45, still single. I don't know why. Not that there's a shortfall of women wanting to marry him.

"Then, there's Barry, he's an Army medic currently serving with the Coalition but based in Germany. He's 43, still single. And I don't know why. Not that there's a shortfall of women wanting to marry him.

"Then, there's Bryce, thank God he's married," she beamed at Belle.

"Then, there's Bernard, he's a Navy diver currently in San Diego, training with the US Navy. He's 33, still single. And I don't know why.

Out of the blue, Rajo piped up, "Not that there's a shortfall of women wanting to marry him." Sue and Belle laughed, not realising that Rajo has been eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Then, there's Banjo, he's a helicopter pilot with the Australian Navy. He's 30, still single." Sue turned to Rajo who obliged, "And we don't know why," shrugging his shoulders for emphasis. "Not that there's a shortfall of women wanting to marry him."

Much later, the conversation turned serious, Belle asked, "How do you cope with them all gone all the time and not knowing where they are, what they're doing, how they're doing?"

"I don't think about it. I put my energy into just doing. Working on the farm. Gardening. Visiting friends. Looking after Rajo. Actually, it was him who saved me." She looked at Bryce's adopted son, who has moved on to watching the game of cricket on television, "Without him, I'd have gone crazy. The older I get, the harder isolation becomes. But taking care of him made me stronger, younger."

Sue reminded her, "You have lived with us for a month before... you coped well."

"Yeah, but it's a lot different now," she replied.

"I know. I was a military wife myself. I understand. Start with what you know best and work with that. What did you used to do in Canada?"

"I was a forensic accountant."

"That's sounds high and mighty to me."

Belle laughed, "It's a high brow title for an accounting detective," she said. "Nothing much to it."

"Accounting I understand. You can help Bryce. The farm has not filed a tax return in five years. Not since my husband died and they've all been away."

Belle looked at Sue in surprised, "Five years?" she repeated. Sue nodded and told her filing tax return was an alien activity to her, "Wouldn't know where to begin," she said.

"Definitely," said the red-haired, "I can help with that... starting tomorrow."

The helicopter reached its floating destination, the pilot landing it safely on the deck of the frigate. The Wolf disembarked. He was met and welcomed by the Captain and shown to an office. Waiting was his handler from Australia's overseas secret intelligence collection agency, the Australian Secret Intelligence Service or ASIS, the equivalent of the U.S.A's CIA and the U.K.'s Mi6. Bryce left the Regiment to join the intelligence branch on an ad hoc basis. _Ad hoc_, a Latin phrase meaning, "for this."

_For this_ being anything of special purpose. He just didn't count on being called into action so soon. The door closed behind him, the Wolf suddenly felt imprisoned in the darkest pit. He sensed it: it would be darker than black.


	12. Rendezvous at Heathrow

**Rendezvous at Heathrow**

The problem with living in the arse end of the world was that it takes ages to get any where. The HMAS Toowoomba continued to sail through the Coral Sea to the Gulf of Carpentaria, during which time, the mission specifics were spelled out to the Wolf.

"There's one more thing you need to know. Your partner in crime. He hasn't committed to it yet but our counterpart seemed fairly sure he'd come on-board."

The Wolf didn't say a word, merely raised his eyebrows, "Canadian police officer, Spike Scarlatti." Rather flippantly, the man added, "Don't know why they're sending a policeman to go with you on this mission."

Bryce cut him short, "That's because he's not just a policeman."

The ASIS man reddened, "No offense intended... as I understand it, you personally know the guy. I was merely sa..." He stopped mid-sentence when the Wolf's eyes narrowed, which was wise of him.

After the briefing, Bryce handed over his wallet and his personal phone, but first he removed the SIM card and swallowed it. Cutting the card into pieces just won't do. If ASIS wanted to piece his life together, it has an platoon of geeks to glue the pieces back together, or whatever it is they do. This way they'd have to dive for his shit to get it.

In return, he was given a passport in a new cover name, "Byron Rice", a burnt iphone that contained the details of his flight from Darwin to Gibraltar and hotel booking, pocket money and a credit card. The Wolf turned on the device to check his e-ticket. _Business class all the way_. His eyes lasered on his handler, "At least you got that one right."

"Questions before I let you loose?"

"I've got a stack of them but they're above your pay grade so let's cut the crap." Far from being insulted, the handler appreciated it; not being asked tough questions was a relief all on its own.

Shortly, Bryce found himself being flown back toward Terra Firma, this time in the direction of Darwin, the capital of Australia's Northern Territory. The same AS350BA Squirrel helicopter from the Royal Australian Navy Fleet gave him a lift and deposited him on the rooftop of Darwin International Airport's car park. People reported seeing a man slippery sliding off a rope from a helo; the rope was then dropped to the ground after Bryce has landed on his feet to prevent any chance of the rope snagging any infrastructure that could potentially take the rotary winged aircraft down.

The Black Ops man was hours early. His Qantas flight to Singapore doesn't take to the skies until 18:20 local time. With two hours to kill before he has to check in, Bryce called Belle from a payphone.

"What's that ringing noise?" asked Rajo.

"It's my phone," Belle felt the pocket of her shorts. She pulled it out, the screen said, _Unknown caller_.

"Hello," she said tentatively. Her face lit up instantly, and Rajo beamed, "It's Daddy." She nodded, "Darling, speak to Rajo then we'll talk."

She passed the phone to the child, "Daddy, where are you?"

"What have I told you many times before?"

"That Daddy can't tell," he said.

"Good boy."

"Daddy, is that because you don't know where you are?"

"Could be."

So Rajo advised his father, "You should buy a map or an app."

Bryce laughed and simply said, "Is Nanna there?"

"Yes, she's cooking dinner for the army."

His voice changed, tinged with concern, "Let me talk with Nanna."

"Nanna, it's Dad. He wants to talk to you."

Sue took the phone from Rajo, "Hello,"

"Mum, sorry to leave with you the load. Ask them to leave early. Without me, there wouldn't be much to do anyway."

"Don't be silly, Billy and Raf have their work cut out for them. Besides without them, I wouldn't have anything to do to pass the time."

"Thanks, take care, ok."

"I love you, too, son."

Bryce laughed, "Me, too."

Sue handed the phone over to Belle, she turned around quickly and headed for their bedroom. She didn't want her conversation to be overheard; mainly because she knew she'd be sappy.

"Hey, how are you?"

"I'm good... better."

"I'm disappointed," he teased. "I was expecting you to be wailing and gnashing your teeth." She laughed. "But at the rate your going, you're likely to have me replaced with a pimply back packer."

"You're so gross."

"See, there you go, I'm right. That's no way to talk to a man you profess to love."

"I love you." She said with such melancholy that he teased her again.

"You said that like someone's pointing a gun to your head." She chuckled despite her distress, so she said it again and this time she sounded more upbeat.

"That's better."

She told him her plans to work on the farm's accounts, "Thank God. I know there's a reason I married you. It'll save me bookkeeping and accounting fees."

"My services will cost you more than just fees."

"Oh," he said faking surprise, "You mean I have to pay with my body."

"You're so uncouth," she replied giggling.

"Uncouth. Gross. Silly. Are you sure you're not trying to divorce me already?"

"I miss you," she said.

"Don't change the topic, you suck at it," he mocked in jest.

"I really miss you."

"I miss you, too," he paused then added, "It'll be awhile before I can call again. But I'll be home soon."

"I'll be waiting."

"You better. I have to go Pixie, I love you." The Wolf hanged up before he choked.

With determined steps he went to check in, ate a proper meal and bought a book, Theo Knell's 'Hell for Heroes'. He settled in to wait for his flight to be announced at the gate, read with one eye scanning his environment every so often. The Wolf has shed his civilian persona. The warrior was back in full combat readiness.

It was nearly mid-night in Toronto. Nevertheless he knew they were waiting for his answer, "Affirmative," he said.

He has thought about it and weighed the price of going or not going for his country. The patriot in him won out. When he mentioned it to his wife. Winnie looked him in the eye and said, "You know I have your back. Whatever you think is right... you do."

"It would mean being away from you for days? Even up to a week."

"You're such a sook," she teased. "Why? Afraid I'd forget what you look like?"

He pouted. Between the two of them, he tended to be the more sooky. Maybe it was because he was an only child and been mostly alone until she came along. But maybe it was just him to be so huggy buggy. She embraced him, "I love you. Knowing you... you'd stay awake wondering about it... so why wonder. Just do, ok."

He hugged her tightly, this woman was always so wise. "Ok, I'll let the bosses know of your decision."

She rolled her eyes, pinched him in jest. "Go, do it now." So that's what he did.

Not 20 minutes passed, someone was sent from the CSIS' HQ with a diplomatic pouch. It contained a passport in a new cover identity, a burnt iphone with details of his flight and hotel booking, cash and a credit card.

"That was quick." But the courier simply nodded politely and left without a word.

He turned on the phone, checked the details of his flight and exclaimed,. "Shit. You're shitting me."

"What's that?" Winnie inquired.

"The flight leaves in six hours," he said gobsmacked.

"So... what are you waiting for? Pack."

"I swear you want to get rid of me," he said.

She laughed out loud, "What? You're only noticing now."

He chased her around the house. Their two golden retrievers, Moppet and Serenity, wondered what the hell was going on. Soon though, the Geek finally managed to get a holdall of essentials together. He called for a cab and was on his way.

Around this time, the Wolf has reached Changi International Airport in Singapore for a very short lay over and a change of plane. He disembarked from the Qantas Airbus A320, later he would board the BA Boeing 747 for Heathrow Airport in London.

The Geek had it easier – by a hair. Spike's itinerary would require the patience of a saint. First, he has to board BA7884, operated by American Airlines from Toronto's Pearson Airport for New York's La Guardia Airport. From there, he has a seven (horror) hour lay over at Newark Liberty International Airport for London's Heathrow Airport.

From Heathrow, the Geek and the Wolf would rendezvous. Then, they would both board the same plane for their mission base: Gibraltar.

_The Rock of Gibraltar!_


	13. The Gib

**The Gib**

Bryce only had an hour and 30 minutes between flights at Changi International. Fifteen years of criss-crossing the globe on assignments, he has been in this international hub more times than he cared to remember. Having left the Australian continent with just the clothes on his back, he went straight to 'Billabong', which carried just his sort of fashion. He picked up one fleece jacket, three pairs of Rexford pants, two cargo sports shorts, a dozen pairs of socks. He thought about underpants for the first time in his life but decided against it in the end, _Belle hasn't complained about it._

Next stop, 'Giordano'. This was essential kit for the Wolf. The covert operative in him didn't like wearing anything with a label or insignia on it. How easy would it be for witnesses to say, "it's a man with a 'Lacoste' shirt on." Wearing plain, generic shirt would not pose the same problem. He picked up five plain Tee and two long sleeve ones and he stuck to plain black. Understated was always the operative word for his wardrobe selection.

Then, he purchased a back pack, picking up the plainest one he could find. Amusing the shop keeper when he insisted on taking the display item, "No," she said, "I can get you a new one from the backroom." He refused kindly, insisting he liked the one people have handled, tested and so look a little worn for wear. "Don't want people thinking it's my first time outside the zoo," he said with a wink. The shop clerk laughed demurely at his lame joke.

Next stop, 7-11 for toiletries, and he was set for the mission.

Meantime, the Geek has been cooling his heels in Newark International. He checked his time, another three hours to go before the next plane takes off for Heathrow. So far, he has sped read through two books, both autobiographical accounts of former SAS men. When he finished Andy McNab's book, 'Immediate Action', he was convinced Aussie Bryce would be just as mad as his UK counterpart. He thought, if he has to go on covert assignment, he'd much rather have an ex-SAS have his back.

With thirty minutes still to spare, the Wolf hurried to board BA12, a Boeing 747. In a different time zone, the Geek was still waiting to board his connection for Heathrow. Two more books later, both historical, he has brushed up on Morocco. His conclusion, it's a hotbed. The brainiac in him filed away some important modern historical events.

_In February 2003, a Casablanca court jailed three Saudi members of al-Qaeda for 10 years after they were accused of plotting to attack US and British warships in the Straits of Gibraltar. Three months later, more than 40 people were killed in the __2003 Casablanca bombings__, when suicide bombers attacked several sites in Casablanca, including a Spanish restaurant and Jewish community centre._

_In the __2007 Casablanca bombings__, three suspected suicide bombers blew themselves up, a few weeks after a suicide blast in an internet cafe that injured three. More than 40 people were given long prison sentences for this bombing. Two suicide bombers blew themselves up outside the US diplomatic offices in Casablanca._

_In 2008, two Moroccan men, Abdelilah Ahriz and Hicham Ahmidan, were sentenced to 20 and 10 years in jail respectively in Morocco over the __Madrid train bombings__ of 2004. Islamist Saad Housseini was given 15-year sentence in 2009 over the 2003 Casablanca bombings. He was also wanted in Spain over the Madrid bombings. Soon after, the alleged al-Qaeda leader in Morocco, Belgian-Moroccan __Abdelkader Belliraj__, was imprisoned for life on being found guilty of leading an Islamist militant group and committing six murders in Belgium._

_In the __April 2011 Marrakech bombing__, 17 people, mainly foreigners, were killed in a bomb attack on a Marrakech cafe. The Maghreb arm of al-Qaeda denied involvement. A man was later sentenced to death for the bombing._

_In the __2011–2012 Moroccan protests__, thousands of people rallied in Rabat and other cities calling for political reform and a new constitution curbing the powers of the king. In July 2011 the King won a landslide victory in a referendum on a reformed constitution he had proposed to placate the __Arab Spring__ protests._

He found out that protesters continue to call for reforms. And insurgency has been on the rise since 2002, waged by the Islamist militia, Salafist Group for Preaching and Combat, or, GSPC.

Three hours later, Spike was relieved when his plane was called for boarding. Another book on Morocco and he was bound to call off his participation in this hare-brained mission, for although Gibraltar was the mission base, Morocco was their intended destination, which as it turned out wasn't a tourist Mecca.

_Heaven, help me! Whatever possessed me to go along with this._

The Wolf's trans-continental flight arrived in Heathrow at 05:00, an hour and 20 minutes ahead of Spike's.

The Aussie didn't waste time. He's also been at Heathrow Airport more times that he could remember. He went to shower off his travel fatigue. As per his practice he dumped his used clothing in a bin in the fast food area where garbage was emptied frequently. Operatives didn't carry laundry.

It was at the food court that Spike found the Wolf devouring food like there was no tomorrow. The Geek stealthily approached, "Is this seat taken?" he asked.

"Depends who's asking."

"Am I pretty enough?"

The Wolf laughed, "Bloody sit your ugly mug down." He glanced at his time, "We've got an hour to kill, so grab something while you can." Spike went off to search for food and returned with a tray of salad. Bryce took one look and said, "Rabbit food? Really?"

"Can't handle anything heavy... not with another plane to catch."

"Fuck me, mate...". Spike noticed that the Wolf has this certain look about him, whatever it was, he didn't like it. He tucked into his salad and wondered what Bryce's part in all this; since for the safety of both operatives, Bryce only knew his part of the mission; and Spike, his part. The strict protocol was to protect the mission in case one of them was lifted.

At 07:30, both men strode to the boarding gate, settled themselves in for a four hour flight to Gib, as Gibraltar is unofficially known. A British overseas territory, it is located near the southernmost tip of the Iberian Peninsula overlooking the Strait of Gibraltar. The territory shares a border with Spain to the north; and a mere spitting distance across the pond from Morocco. More importantly, it is a base for the British Armed Forces and is the site of a Royal Navy base.

On arrival, the Wolf checked in at 'The Rock Gibraltar'. The Geek into 'O'Callaghan Elliot Hotel.'

Bryce went to work immediately. His task was to insert Spike in Morocco and ex-filtrate him and possibly another character, by any means necessary except legally. They both could not be seen to have arrived nor departed Morocco under any circumstances. And, of course, act as the Geek's protector.

He's also been to Gib more times than he cared to remember. Morocco however was another thing altogether. He lived in Rabat for six months on undercover assignment back in 2008, as part of a covert team to find those responsible for the 2004 Madrid bombing. He wondered whether he's tempting fate just being across the pond.

So what did an Australian SAS got to do with the Madrid bombing? Spain and the UK are close allies, both members of NATO. When one hurts so does the other. In 2008, up to 2010, the Wolf was on secondment to the UKSF, so he was neck deep in it, too.

The Wolf looked out to the Mediterranean sea. _Fuck. What's the probability I'd bump into someone who wants to chop my head off_, he thought grimly. But he didn't dwell on it. He was trained to only act on fact, not on probabilities.

He moved on quickly. In October, the average sunlight hour in Gib is four hours. "Bloody stingy," he murmured. In his backyard, sunlight in October is at least 12 hours if you're unlucky. He teed up to meet someone to arrange for a seafaring craft. Something plain, small but speedy. The plan: covert entry by sea.

Spike didn't know it yet but their entry and exit would be the hairiest experiences of his life. One he wouldn't care to repeat if his life depended on it. In the meantime, he enjoyed the cosmopolitan atmosphere of downtown Gib. Even with a population of just 30,000 it was nevertheless ultra crowded for it is only 6.8 square kilometres in size (2.6 sq mi) and most of it occupied by 'The Rock of Gibraltar', a monolithic landmark in the Mediterranean.

In Toronto, Winnie was busy at work and also busy fielding questions from friends, "Where's Spike?" The wise Mrs Scarlatti merely said, "He's away for a bit of R and R."

The usual follow up comment was "Good on him."

When she arrived home from work, she logged online hoping for a message from Spike, there was none. But the answering machine's light was blinking, she pressed play but all she got was a tongue clicking sound in Morse code, "I've arrived." Winnie smiled.

She went to see what Moppet and Serenity were up too. The dogs were out in the yard. Serenity came over for a back rub and a cuddle. Moppet just moped. Daddy's girl was pining for Spike. She patted her affectionately, "Dad will be home soon."

It was morning in Gregory Downs, Belle prepared to batten down to do her accounting for the farm. Sue opened a storage unit full of shoe boxes. "What's that?" she asked.

"Everything you need to start, over five years of receipts, invoices, papers. We call it 'shoe box bookkeeping'," said Sue. She smiled at her daughter-in-law, eyes sparkling naughtily, "Good luck. Oh, I'll make you snacks and bring you something cool to drink. You'll need it."

Belle stood in front of the filing unit, if you could call it that, and braced herself. She felt panic rising from within her belly but decided 'no harm, no foul." _If it takes me a year to sort these out, that's ok, what's another year of not filing a tax return._

Rajo though has a problem, he's been seriously worried about it since his Dad married Belle. But he was uncertain how to bring it up. He watched Belle momentarily before deciding it probably didn't matter anyway. He hunched down, ready to batten down with home schooling. Billy noticed. She called the boy over to ask what was wrong, the boy tearily said, "If Daddy and Belle have a baby, will I still be my father's son?"

Billy affectionately hugged the boy and said, "Of course. Remember, he carried you for nine weeks. And we loved you since forever."

The 300 klicks mercy trek from the bush hospital in Somalia to the border of Kenya took nine weeks; in all that time, Bryce carried the then 12 month old baby on his back. Ordinarily, it would have taken the Special Forces men two weeks to walk 300 klicks, even in rugged terrain and carrying 30 kgs of gear. But they had 30 refugees with them, who were sick, infirmed, and many were orphaned children; at the same time dodging insurgents and other hostiles.

Belle turned around in time to catch the affectionate embrace between Rajo and Billy, she smiled. Funny that, she thought, I went from being single to wife and a mother in the space of a week.

One day, very soon, Rajo would find out that he hasn't lost a father, but has gained a mother.


	14. Morocco: By Stealth and Sea

_Author's Note: This story takes place in October, all time differences were calculated using Coordinated Universal Time or Zulu Time. For this story, Gibraltar is six hours ahead of Toronto and Queensland is eight hours of Gibraltar._

**Morocco by Stealth and Sea**

Wolf called the contact on the ground, known by his simple sobriquet 'The Asset', the 'go-to' man for black operatives with requisition for gears and hardware. So while the Geek enjoyed the scenery as a regular tourist, the Wolf arranged to meet the Asset in the café by the foreshore just 500 metres from his hotel. The meeting place was open to the public; but then, sometimes the best place to meet someone clandestinely was out in the open.

With three hours still to kill before the meet, the Wolf sat on the shoreline with a binocular performing a visual recce of the land across the Straits. Armed with a sketch pad, coloured art pencils, and a book called 'Birds of the World', he appeared as someone interested only on the birds of Gibraltar.

Aside from the regular commuter ferries between Gib and Morocco, there was a plethora of pleasure crafts of all shapes and sizes. Day and night, it was a very busy maritime highway. A night time insertion in a slow moving water vessel without lights would be suicidal. So what he initially thought to be the best way forward was soon ditched. But soon a smile creased his face, he had figured out the perfect way in; all things considered.

Spike was among a throng of tourists getting acquainted with Gibraltar's other famous residents, the Barbary Macaque, when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He separated himself from the group to answer it, eyes fixed on the distant views of _Upper Rock Nature Reserve_, "You've got it all figured out?"

Bryce, with a smile in his voice, replied, "Yup, I have. How's your swimming skills?"

"Swimming? What do you mean swimming?" the Geek asked in surprise.

"Can you talk any louder?" chastised Bryce.

Spike hissed on the phone, "What do you mean swimming?"

"It's the best way to get from here to there without being seen. You can do it mate, trust me. We leave tonight 22:00 hours, sending you the coordinates. Don't be late." The Aussie hanged up and Spike was left to stare at his phone. _Swim? From here to there_. He wished he had stayed home.

Bryce checked his Baby G; 13:00 hours, _it's time_. He gathered his paraphernalia and moved his ass to the café. The salt-and-pepper haired spy, a relic from his recent pass, not three months ago to be precise, looked the same as always. Dressed impeccably in a suit, polished leather shoes and accessorised by his Cartier wristwatch, the spook looked the part of an expatriate executive.

The Wolf eased himself on the seat opposite. The Spy appraised him in his casual long sleeve black Tee and denim Rexford pants, "You look good." The Australian sun has tanned him to a deep shade of brown; his thick brunette hair a wind-blown mess on his head.

"Thanks," replied the Australian, long used to people complimenting him on his looks, although in truth he often thought it odd. He didn't rate himself as good looking for when he looked at himself in the mirror all he sees was someone scarred, he didn't realised it simply added to his mystique. The length of his right cheek, from the cheek bone to his jaw has a scar that was a result of his face being sliced open with a machete. The wound was sutured by a fellow SAS in the battle field of Somalia. It was his first surgical experience without anaesthesia and he vowed never again.

Bryce gave the book of birds to the spook who casually opened it to the first page to read the 'dedication'. With practiced skill, the Wolf said, "Better late than never, eh."

The spy, reacting to the ad lib with aplomb, replied, "Yeah, you took your time."

"You know me I only read a paragraph a day."

The spy closed the book, nodded with a smile. "Coffee?" he asked.

"Cappuchino, no sugar," replied the Aussie.

"Great… cause you're buying."

"I'm buying?"

The Spy smiled, waved the book and said "Penalty for late return."

Bryce waved a wait staff over and ordered his choice of hot beverage, the Asset did the same. The young waitress with a name tag that said, 'Isabel' flirted openly with the Aussie much to the amusement of the Asset, "You still have it mate," he said when the waitress left to place their order.

Bryce smiled at the spy but kept their dealing strictly business. "I'm on a rigid time-table. How soon can you get another book to me?"

The Asset made a show of reading the dedication but it was actually a list of what Bryce needed. It listed "Wetsuit, dive gear, primary and back-up dive light, Glock 17, night vision goggles, GPS navigator, water proof pouch."

"I need two," Bryce clarified.

"Give me an hour," replied the Spook, "Where would you like me to drop it off?" Before he could reply their coffee arrived. Bryce thanked the waitress who lingered longer than necessary. He wasn't in any mood for polite and idle talk and was relieved when new customers walked in, although the same could not be said of the young woman.

They waited until she was out of hearing range. Bryce asked, "Do you still have that boat?"

"Sure, it's moored in the same place."

"Deliver it there, in an hour. You don't mind if I hang around there?"

"It's yours. Happy sailing."

"Thanks, I better go…"

"You better… she's got the hots for you." The Wolf smiled and hurried off without appearing to hurry.

The Wolf made himself at home in the boat, a good-looking yacht paid for by the British taxpayers. Not a bad incentive to live the life of an expat spook, although James Bond's lifestyle didn't appeal to him. The yacht's bobbing in the water lulled him to sleep in no time. With a late night swim planned for 22:00 hours he would be foolish not to take advantage of the chance to snatch a well-earned kip.

Spike thought the same the second he received the message from Bryce, the coordinates showed it was the marina. He disengaged himself from the rest of the tour group and made his way back to the hotel.

The Geek checked the time, 15:00 hours_. Seven hours till the planned invasion of Morocco_. Better get sleep. He closed the curtains, played music from his iphone, and showered. The ritual helped him to get in the mood for sleep, at any rate his body didn't need much convincing, he was ready for sleep the minute he hit the mattress. The nearly 24 hour flight from Toronto to Gibraltar guaranteed he was pretty whacked. But before he passed out, he thought of Winnie_._

Bryce woke up instantly as the floorboards on the pier squeaked. He was up on his feet before the spook could set foot inside the yacht. Wordlessly, salt and pepper haired man passed the gears stored in a canvas holdall to the Australian. And with just a nod, he was off again. If there was anyone listening or observing them, there would be nothing to report.

He opened the holdall, inspected the diving gear and was happy to find everything he required and they were in good nick. All he has to do now was wait.

Alone with his thoughts, he could only think of his wife. He wondered what Belle was doing; he checked the time difference, _midnight in Gregory Downs_. "Sweet dreams", he murmured to himself.

But half a world away, Belle couldn't sleep. _I hope you're ok_. She tossed and turned in the hammock, wrestling with her troubled soul. But fatigued won out an hour later, and eventually she fell into a listless sleep.

Fifteen minutes to 22:00 hours, Spike was whistling on the walkway. Bryce came out of the yacht to meet him. "This is it! It's the big swim." Spike could tell that Bryce was all psyched up, bubbling over with excitement. _He's really insane_.

"I'm raring to go!" Bryce tossed Spike the wetsuit, "Suit up. Trust me, there's nothing better than night diving. It's only 12 miles. It's pretty rough water out there and the water is freezing. And there could be sharkies… so stay sharp."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"No, just sayin," the Wolf replied with a wink. "Don't worry I've got your back."

Scarlatti looked out to the twinkling lights across the pond, it didn't look far. Twelve miles was really nothing. He thought if he could disarm ticking bombs for a living, _surely, this can't be too bad._

They changed into their wetsuit and packed their shoes, shoes, phone, wallet, passport, fire arms, night vision goggles and GPS navigator in the water proof pouch. "Ready?"

Spike nodded. Bryce checked Spike's gear, made sure everything was tight and breathing nozzles were correctly connected to the valve of the diving tank. Spike did the same for Bryce.

Ideally, they should have done this in twilight, it's would have been easier to get their scuba equipment on and make their entry while there some light to work with. And as night falls while underwater, they would have been able to gradually acclimatised to the darkness instead of plunging into it from the start. But they had no choice.

Bryce estimated that it would take them at least four hours to make the crossing. He planned a shallower scuba dive. Typically scuba divers use more air on night dives so a scuba tank will not last as long as it usually does. To stay down longer, they would have to make sure they stay on course. Wondering off course would be the death sentence of them. Using lights on the shore, Bryce marked the destination and the landing point.

"Stay close at all times," was the last thing Bryce told Spike before they back flipped into the darkness. _I swear to God this is the last time I'm doing this_, was Spike's last thought before the inky water swallowed him. It took all his might not to panic, he felt Bryce's hand on his back, turning him toward Morocco.

Breathe easy, breathe swallow. Spike kept repeating to himself like a mantra. When they reached the other side, he was in a state of near post traumatic stress.

"You did well, mate." said Bryce slapping his back, grinning like a Barbary macaque.

Spike shook his head and said, "Mate, I met some of your relatives in the other side, remind me to introduce you to them on our return."


	15. On Dry Land

**On Dry Land**

In a state of mental fog and physical exhaustion, Spike looked out to sea. Across from where he was collapsed on his knees was the coast of Tarifa, Spain. _How the hell did we do that? _It was a daring feat by any measure; and a super quick tutorial on compass navigation.

Much to Spike's chargrin, GPS receiver does not work underwater, so to get from Point A to Point B, they had to rely on good old compass.

Bryce explained _compass navigation _as he sailed the yacht from its moorings in Gibraltar to Punta de Tarifa, Spain; the shortest distance to Punta Cires in Morocco. Handing Spike a compass, he started the tutorial with the basic. "The part of your scuba compass that moves and always points north is called the card. It has N,S,E, and W indicated, and a beveled edge with numbers on it. The movable ring around the edge of the compass is called the bezel. The orange line or double line across the top of the compass is called the lubber line, and finally, there's a little window in the side of your compass." Spike flipped it on its side and found the side window Bryce was talking about.

"We will have a compass each attached to our belt. Also attached to it is our water proof pouch. Any questions so far?"

As much as he hated Wolf's guts, the Geek was sufficiently intrigued. He wouldn't admit it to the Aussie but he was in fact loving the learning aspect of this mission impossible. He replied, "Nope, carry on."

"Point the lubber line on top of your compass at where you want to go, with the side window facing you, and note the number. The edge of the card is beveled at 45 degrees – this is so you can see the numbers on the edge both from the top and through the side window. As long as you hold your compass flat in front of you with the lubber line pointing in the direction you're swimming, you should always see the same number in your window as long as you're going the right way.

"If you see a different number, turn until you see the same number. It sounds too easy but that's really it."

Spike wanted to see for himself. He picked a random destination, and noted the right number. As the yacht sailed on, the number on the compass changed so he turned to face the right direction to get the right bearing. The Wolf smiled admiringly as the Geek grasped the concept quickly.

Satisfied that he got the hang of the technical side, Spike grilled Bryce on the plan. "How sure are you we can do this?"

"July last year, a quadruple amputee swam across the Strait of Gibraltar in just over five hours. If he can do it, you can. The route across is an eastern flow of water from the Atlantic Ocean to the Mediterranean Sea with an average of 3 knots (5.5 km per hour). The Strait of Gibraltar isn't particularly difficult in terms of long distance open water swim."

"Are you kidding me? Not difficult."

Bryce smiled reassuringly at Spike, "Trust me. I've done it twice with my mates. We had nothing better to do so we wagered on who could do it fastest. With excellent physical condition, the distance is manageable. The water temperature shouldn't be a problem; the average water temperature in October is around 22-23C (roughly 73F). We should be able to do it in less than four hours... five at the most."

By the time they reached Tarifa, they were both suited up and kitted up. Five hours later they were on Punta Cires. Spike glanced at the Aussie. _He should feel as beat as me_. He hanged his head, he was knackered yet Wolf was on his feet and already stripping off his wetsuit.

Bryce looked at the Canuck, "Better move your ass, mate. It's close to the crack of dawn, we're not supposed to be here." So despite muscle cramps, Spike got up to his feet and wrestled with the wetsuit. The cold early morning air hit his system, he gritted his teeth as they started to chatter. They changed quickly and quietly. Occasionally, Bryce would look around as if he expected to see some phantom beings. Among the craggy rocks, they found a hiding place for their gears.

They walked silently up rocks and hillside, lost in their own thoughts. Bryce stopped at the top of a ridge, turning to Spike, he said, "It's your mission, mate. Do what you have to do. I've got your back."

The Geek nodded. From here on, it was up to him to get things done. "You've done half your bit," he said. "You got me here... but you bloody make sure I get back to Winnie."

The Aussie smirked, "No pressure, mate." He exhaled, "I gotta get back home too. Alive preferably. So let's get this over and done with. After you, mate."

Spike took the lead, Bryce covered his back.

Meantime, Winnie was now feeling Spike's two-day absence. Packing the dogs, she moved in with her parents, "Just for a few days," she said.

But how few was few she couldn't tell. Her father John asked if they were having marital problems, Winnie laughed and said, "No, he's just away on a holiday."

"Without you?"

"Yeah, there's nothing wrong with a married man having some time off by himself. He's earned it."

"I don't know about that..." he said.

She hid in her old bedroom to avoid any further grilling. She logged online to see if there was a message from Spike, none. Tapping the 'enter' button on her computer keyboard nervously, she decided this was the last time her husband was going to do CSIS' bidding. A passing thought came to her, _I should call Sargent Parker, _but in the end, she chose not to.

The two canines sensed her mounting anxiety and hovered close. She smiled at them, "Come, let's go for a walk."

At SRU HQ, the same nagging question swirled around. In his absence, First Officer Jules Callaghan-Braddock was assigned Team Leader.

Two days... two hot calls... two successful outcomes. "Hey Boss, I can get used to this," she said.

Sgt Ed Lane smiled broadly, "You're a Superstar. Always known you'd be an excellent Team Leader. That's what I like about you guys, anyone of you can step up to lead, Spike better come back soon."

"Where's he anyway?" asked Leah Kearns.

"I know what you know," answered Lane. "When he returns, you can ask him."

Back in Gregory Downs, Belle started Operation Tax Returns. Working methodically, she soon got a system going and it didn't take long before she knew without a shadow of a doubt that the farm wasn't viable. A feeling a dread consumed her. Sue read the situation. She brought afternoon tea to Belle, wrapped an arm around her and said, "Don't worry, he'll come around."

Feeling isolated, and now stressed by the reality of their financial situation, she fought the tears as she thanked her mother-in-law for the tea. The older woman sat opposite her and opened up, "The farm was propped up by Bryce's salary. When he was still with the SAS, his annual income was in the six digits, most of them hazard pay. That man of yours dances with death for a dream... a life away from human drama. I don't think he sees the irony of it."

Belle nodded weakly.

Sue continued, "Bryce's military pension is a pittance. He gets the same pension as a retired army cook." She wanted to say more but she hesitated, feeling it wasn't her place to say it.

"What is it?" asked Belle. "Please tell me."

Sue took her hands and said, "I hope I'm wrong, but I think he's 'on call' for operations for money. His way of providing for all of us." Belle burst into tears.

Her in-law cried with her, "I've told him often enough he doesn't have to worry about me. I have enough for myself. When he comes back... you both need to talk about this. He can't keep doing this... there has to be a better way to provide for a family."

Belle forced herself to ask what's been on her mind since Bryce left, "Do you know what he does when he goes away on operation?"

Sue shook her head, "Always top secret. Need to know. I'm as much in the dark as you are. He'll be back soon." She patted Belle's hand, "He always comes home."

Spike and Bryce reached the centre of Tangier, the second most important commercial center in morocco after Casablanca. A beautiful heady mix of old and new, it was an amazing destination. But he wasn't here for a holiday, he came to do a job. Reputed to be a safe house for international spying activities; Tangier's position during the Cold War and other spying periods of the 19th and 20th centuries is without equal in popular culture, so much as that it has become a subject for many spy fiction books and films.

Now, Spike was in the thick of it. He sat in a traditional cafe opposite the American Legation on 8 Rue d' Amerique. The grand Moorish-style building of stuccoed masonry was presented to the U.S. in 1821 by Sultan Moulay Suliman. The first property acquired abroad by the U.S. Government, it housed the U.S. Legation and Consulate for 140 years, the longest period any building abroad has been occupied as a U.S. diplomatic post. The edifice was a symbol of the 1786 Morocco-U.S. treaty of friendship, which is still in force today. During World War II it served as headquarters for U.S. intelligence agents.

Seventy five years later, the spooks haven't left and they're not all Americans.

Spike sat alone. The Wolf watched from a distance.

Ten minutes later, a middle age, darkish man surreptitiously nodded at Spike. He occupied the table next to the Geek. He didn't hear it ring but like everyone else he thought the devise must be on vibrate. The man put the cell phone to his ear and in a heavily accented English said, "Yes. Yes. I'm the one." Then he paused before adding, "Ok. See you soon."

_That_ was the code.

Finishing his tea, Spike left to wander about like a regular tourist but kept his eyes peeled on the cafe. The man stayed long enough to drink up his beverage, crossed the road, then entered a shop selling traditional costumes. Spike followed.

From his observation post, the Wolf's eyes narrowed. He didn't like this one little bit. He casually walked to the shopfront, the glass window and door were opaque; and the door was locked.

_Fuck!_


	16. The Chase to Medina

**The Chase to Medina**

Bryce made a snap decision to operate on trust. Trust that Spike knew how to protect himself, how to leave a trail and how to extricate himself, preferably with all his limbs intact, from the situation. _Now's not the time to flap._

He couldn't break into the shop without risking jeopardy. Thinking quickly, he walked down Rue d' Amerique till he found a clothing shop that sold traditional Moroccan clothing. The dark skinned, tall Australian could easily pass for a Berber even with the bluey-green eyes. Being so close to Europe, it's not uncommon for Moroccan natives, the Berber, to have blond hair and blue eyes.

He walked into a clothing bazaar, picked up a dark blue djellaba, a traditional long, loose and hooded garment. It covers the entire body except the head, hands and feet. He put it on over his clothes much to the appreciation of the shop keeper.

Then he selected a pair of black Berber babouche Moroccan slippers; tried them on and was pleased that they were comfortable but there was no way in hell he was going to part with his dessert-sand coloured Garmont T8 multi-terrain combat boots. If they had to legged it, not that he was considering this as an extraction option, a pair of Berber babouche weren't going to cut it.

Guesstimating for size, he purchased a maroon-coloured djellaba and a brown pair of slippers for Spike.

Lastly, he picked up a fabric used a make turban, not to wear on his head since the weather was quite warm in the Tangier; rather to use as a tote bag in the same way East Timorese used the sarong as a carry-all. He tied the ends together, looped it across his shoulder, then used the fold to hold his purchase. The shop keeper smiled at the ingenuity. Then just to make sure nothing would fall out of the fold, he turned it over twice, closing the opening.

Happy, he paid for the items and hurried back, hoping that Spike and who-cha-ma-call it were still in situ. He went into the traditional eatery across the shop where Spike had his coffee. Starving, he ordered traditional Moroccan meals and parked his ass on a seat that has direct eye-sight of the shopfront and casually watched for any activities.

Spike was shown to a room at the back of the upper level. His eyes surveyed the room, there was nothing much by way of furniture; except for a wash out carpet on the floor, two worn Berber leather ottomans on which to sit; a low, chipped, mosaic table; brass tray with a tea pot and two traditional glasses. The woodwork on the wall was exquisite and the colours vivid.

"Please sit down. Would you like tea?"

Spike shook his head, "Thank you, that's very kind of you but I just had one."

The stranger nodded politely, taking no offense. "I'll be right back." The geek sat on the ottoman, and tried to keep calm, trusting that the Wolf was right outside, most likely in direct line of sight of the shop. As he waited for the contact to return, he thought of how he might get a message to his partner. Calling the Aussie on the cell phone wasn't an option.

He didn't have to wait long, the man came back shortly with a thumb drive. "I'm sorry for the cloak and dagger meet. These precautions are necessary." There was something about the man that didn't sit well with Spike but then that was exactly why he was sent here; to assess the legitimacy of the man's claim and if possible to verify his true identity.

CSIS, through an intermediary received a request for asylum for someone claiming to have sensitive information about Algerian terror group, Salafist Group for Preaching and Combat (GSPC). According to a so-called "highly credible source", the man has proof that the group's influence and tentacles have extended well beyond Europe and has sown seeds of discontent among North American disenfranchised Muslim youths. He also claimed that moderate Muslim clergies in the U.S. and Canada, those who have been preaching peace, co-existence, and tolerance would be eliminated. A list of those targeted allegedly exists.

But a man claiming asylum may just be the double agent no one wanted to have in their own backyard. Realistically, uncovering the truth, if he was a double agent, would be entirely impossible. However, it was hoped that the geek would be able to determine with some degree of accuracy whether the sensitive information being supplied as proof was genuine or a hoax. START and CSIS were counting on Spike's deductive reasoning and computer savvy to find out before they extract him; and grant him asylum and protection; because once he's in their backyard and they got it wrong, it would quickly unravel into one ugly problem.

The geek smiled, "What do I call you?"

"Youssef Tariq."

He handed the little device to Spike. "Everything is in there."

The Canuck nodded, "First, can I use your toilet?"

"Of course, it's the first door to the right."

Spike smiled. "I won't be long."

He turned right, opened the door to the toilet, waited a sec then tip-toed to the room next to it. It was the one facing the street. There was no way to be sure that the Wolf was even watching but he had to send him a message regardless. He found the light switch on the wall, flicked it a few times, on and off. Bryce was immediately on the alert, it was a message in Morse code, WATCH. Relieved, the Wolf devoured his food.

The message sent, Spike hurriedly but softly treaded his way backward to the room so if Youssef came out looking for him he wouldn't bump into him front-on. Wondering what's taking too long, the would-be defector came out of the room to check on Spike. The geek quickly glanced backward, acting a little worse for wear, he said, "Ah wrong way. Sorry, I'm jet-lagged."

"It's understandable."

They went back to the room, Spike coughed and thumped his chest, "I think I'm coming down with something. Do you mind if we catch up again tomorrow? I'm here for a few days."

Youssef fidgeted. The Canadian reserved judgment whether the appearance of nervousness was for his benefit. The asylum-seeker pleaded, "What about me? I've been here for two days waiting for you. There could be GSPC spies looking for me."

Demonstrating an acting skill he didn't think he had, Spike puffed his chest out, and whispered, "Don't worry, I didn't come alone. I came with an extraction team. As we speak they're all over the place watching over us. You'll be fine. I'll check what you've got for me, if it's all legit, we'll extract you ASAP."

The man paced, angrily hissed in strong accented English, "What's my guarantee that you won't leave me stranded here after you've taken the information? No way, not good enough." He was right to be paranoid. So far, the man was acting legitimately. In his place, Spike thought, he'd want to have some guarantee as well.

Changing the topic, he asked, "Who owns this place?"

"A friend. They'll be back shortly."

"Look, I'm jet-lagged. I feel sick. And I'm hungry. And I still need to verify your information. So what do you say let's go and have something to eat and take it from there."

"Good," he said, "Come with me."

Youssef led the way out of the shop; as Spike exited, he locked eyes with Bryce. After locking up, the Algerian hailed a taxi. Bryce coolly hailed one coming from the opposite direction. He glanced back to see the rear of the taxi disappear quickly from view. Catching up to Spike was not possible but he could track him. Turning on his iphone, he hoped that Spike's was on. He activated an app and was relieved to see a blinking green light. Telling the driver where to go would be a problem so he did the next best thing, he offered the taxi driver money to drive himself.

The driver was confused until he peeled off a US$100 from his pocket, stuffed it in the driver's shirt pocket and said, "I drive, you sit." Finally understanding the deal, the cabbie with two missing front teeth smiled, "Ok, ok." He scooted over to let the Wolf jumped into the driver seat.

Then it was one harrowing, white knuckle ride until the Wolf caught up to Spike's cab. Bryce glanced at the driver who was no longer grinning. He laughed.

It was eight pm and still light where Belle was. She went out to the veranda, sat on the old rocking chair and looked up at the sky, willing for the sun to come down and for the moon to come up. Hoping it would hasten the passage of time. Billy came over, sat on the deck and looked at her thoughtfully, "You're worried?"

There was no point lying. She nodded, fighting the tears. She told Billy she wasn't just worried about Bryce, she was also worried about Cameron Country. She would have to tell him to let it go. "I'm the messenger of failed dream."

Billy hugged her legs, "Belle, do you know much about wolves?"

"Sorry?" The flame-haired pixie was taken by surprise.

Billy smiled. "I was just five when Bryce left me to join the Army. I was six when he returned for a visit. He showed me his tattoo of an Australian wolf on his back. I asked him why he did it. He said it's because that's what he's like. Then he told me about wolves."

She glanced at Belle to make sure she has caught her attention.

"He said it's because wolves are loyal and they mate for life. Wolves live within a pack. The alpha male protects his pack, as a man protects his family. He fights for them, looks after them. Do you know why there are lone wolves? Lone wolves are mostly outcasts. Or they're old who can't carry their own weight and has chosen to leave the pack to preserve its social cohesion. Or sick or blind. Or young male adults starting their own pack, those ones are just as ferocious.

"You and Rajo are his pack, he'll be back for you. With wolves, it's never about the hunting ground. It's about the pack. He'd be more than willing to roam outside his realm as long as he has his pack with him. So don't worry about Cameron Country."

Billy stopped talking when Rajo came out dressed in his pajamas, "Good night, Auntie Billy."

"Good night."

"Good night, Belle."

Belle smiled and asked him to sit next to her. She made room for him in the rocking chair, and whispered, "We have to decide what you'll call me because I can't have my children call me by my first name."

Rajo looked at her, "Are you having a baby?"

"No, not yet but it will happen – in the future. So what do you say... you want to think about it?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Good night."

"Good night and sleep tight." They cuddled quickly, Rajo wriggled out of the rocking chair and said, "I love you."

Twilight finally arrived, "Let's get inside before the mosquitoes drain our blood," said Billy.

The two Cameron women headed back into the house arm in arm. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to bed," said Billy.

"Go ahead, I'll just check my emails."

She checked her G-mail and there was one from Winnie. She opened it, read the friendly message but one paragraph caught her attention. "My man left in haste three days ago... geez, I hate it. All the secrecy and all that need-to-know. I miss him terribly."

Belle thought, _What are the odds?_

She emailed back saying pretty much the same thing. Winnie read her reply and thought, _Could they be? Is it possible? I hope so._

Around that time, Spike was being driven into Central Square in the medina in Tangier. Youssef ushered him into the labyrinthine alleyways of the square. It was crowded with people wearing traditional clothes. He stood out in his T shirt, denim jeans and running shoes.

The Southern Wolf was on his tail dressed in a djellaba. The green light stopped. Bryce looked around. It was impossible to tell from stack of houses where Spike was exactly. He has to find cover. He couldn't stick around like a sore thumb. Looking around, he saw a young boy of Rajo's age. He smiled, mistaking him a native, the boy started yapping in Arabic. He shook his head. The boy tried French, he shook his head.

"English?" Bryce nodded.

The boy with friendly dancing eyes smiled, closed the gap between them and whispered conspiratorially, "Can I help you?"

The Wolf laughed. "Yes, you can. What's your name?"

"Ahmed."

He showed a photo of Spike from his iphone, "Ok, Ahmed. Have you seen this man?" The boy shook his head.

"I'll give you US$20.00 if you can find him." The boy nodded excitedly.

"Where can I wait?"

The boy motioned for him to follow, he led the SAS man inside a shop selling spices and introduced Bryce to his father, the shop keeper. They greeted each other with "Salaam alaykum." Then Aussie was served mint tea, a sign of warm hospitality.

Sipping tea, he steeled himself with confidence that Scarlatti was just fine. _He's a wolf by nature. He has cunning, and intelligent. And like a wolf keen to start his own pack, Spike would find a way out of a trap, if he's in one._

The glass of tea was still covering his face when a familiar face came into view. The man, he was sure, was an assassin. He lifted the hood of his djellaba, sat further back into the shadow and waited for the threat to pass. Hairs on his neck stood.

It didn't look good.


	17. Running from the Claws of Death

_Author's ALERT: Please read only while seated._

**Running from the Claws of Death**

The word "medina" itself simply means "city" or "town" in modern day Arabic. Like all medina quarters in any North African cities, the one in Tangier was walled and has narrow, maze-like streets. Due to this, medinas are free from car traffic, even motorcycle and bicycle traffic but it's not unusual to find a man and his over-laden mule negotiating its streets and its steps.

Spike found himself in an airless, dark house in the company of Youssef. "Please sit down," his host invited, "I'll get us something to eat." Alone in the front room, the geek fired up his iphone and sent a two-word message to Parker, '_Contact made.'_

He deleted the message and wondered how he in the world he was going to verify something stored in a thumb drive without network connectivity. His thought process was interrupted when he heard shuffling noises near the door, he hastily looked for Youssef, whispered, "There's someone outside."

The Algerian stiffened, "No one knows I'm here."

Spike's blood froze in his veins. _This isn't good._ A child's voice came through the door, calling out a name and banging persistently on the brass knuckle.

"It's just a kid." But Youssef wouldn't answer. Putting a finger on his lips, he encouraged Spike to do the same but the knocking was persistent. Spike eyed the Algerian, "If you don't open the door, he's bound to attract more attention."

But there was no use, the Algerian was solidly fixed on the floor, petrified. Spike took it upon himself to open the door just a tiny bit to stop the kid breaking the door down. That was enough. The boy with the friendly face dashed down the steps and disappeared from view leaving Spike to wonder what it was all about. Running at full tilt, jumping two steps at a time, Ahmed reached Bryce less than a minute after finding Spike. The enterprising kid went door to door within a 50 metre radius of where he met the Australian.

He rushed back to his father's shop, face red with exertion, and screeched to a halt at Bryce's knees. The Wolf caught him before he propelled himself further forward, "Whoa, easy young man."

Grinning from ear to ear, he said, "I see." The father watched them nervously. Bryce rubbed Ahmed's head, "Well done." He stood up and smiled warmly at the man, "Shukran. Thank you for your hospitality. Your son found a place for me to stay in the medina." The boy nodded and confirmed what Bryce said to his father in Arabic. He didn't understand the conversation but he interpreted correctly that the father would prefer it if he disappeared and quickly.

He respectfully bade his good-bye in Arabic, "Beslama" and followed Ahmed up the steps to the facade of the house. His head covered, he looked Arab enough, but he couldn't risk involving the child in any manner of espionage or clandestine operation. Ahmed pointed out the house casually, and Bryce nodded as if it was of no importance. He held the kid's hand and they kept walking. "Where are we going?" he asked.

"Just round the corner... then I want you to go home. Don't hang around, you understand."

The boy looked up to him, "I understand."

"Good." Bryce looked around for anyone suspicious then he crouched low and gave Ahmed two US$50 bills. "Don't stop till you get home. Now run."

He watched the boy take off before he himself turned left into another alleyway in case he was being followed. It was easy to get lost in the maze-like streets so Bryce took a left on every first alley he came across. When he was satisfied he hasn't picked up a tail he turned back. All he has to do now was turn right on every first alley, and he'll be right back where he was.

Bryce walked with his head down, but from his peripheral vision he recognised the assassin watching the same house. _Fuck_. The operative knew it would just be just a matter of minutes before it got noisy. He walked passed the house again, entered the third one down instead.

The home owners were surprised by his audacity and disrespect and loudly chastised him for entering uninvited. He ignored them, went straight to what was the kitchen, climbed out the window and into the balcony of the next house. The owners were not home, he opened the window of what was the bathroom, then he climbed out. Houses in the medina were so closed together one could jump from one house to the next without too much of an effort.

Propelling himself from the bathroom window of the next-door neighbour, Bryce bashed out the window shutter of the house where Spike was staying. The occupants scrambled to their feet. The Algerian made for a concealed weapon tucked inside his trousers, Spike quickly grabbed his hand, looked him in the eyes and said, "Friend, friend."

Stepping on splintered wood, Bryce reached across, hauled Spike by the cuff of his collar and said, "We gotta go! There's an assassin outside."

"Assassin?" repeated Youssef in terror. "They're here to kill me."

Bryce manhandled Spike, "No time to waste, let's go." The geek protested, "What about him?"

"You're my problem, not him."

"No, no," begged Youssef, "I risked my life to do this. You have to take me."

They heard footsteps, there was no time for debate; as far as Bryce was concerned, he only had to look after Spike. He grabbed him by the collar and hauled him out the window. Reacting quickly, Spike reached out and dragged Youssef with him. By now, he was convinced the Algerian was legit.

They just managed to disappear down the window into the balcony of the house adjacent when the door was kicked in. The assassin, a gun for hire called TBR, '_The Black Rhino'_ , was ex-Special Forces, Zimbabwe's SAS.

They made themselves small, their backs pressed against a white-washed wall, Bryce stopped to put his strategic cap on, they couldn't keep running. He has to find a hiding place till he could get their shit sorted. When suddenly, from nowhere, they heard "Psst..."

Bryce turned to the left. It was Ahmed. "What are you doing here? I told you to go home."

"I'm home," he said. He pulled Bryce. As they turned the corner, there was a courtyard. Hiding behind overgrown untended vines, Bryce pulled Ahmed to him, picked him up with one arm and with another covered his mouth. "Sssh..." They waited until the shadow of the beast passed.

Winnie was increasingly upset. She hasn't heard from Spike. Surely, it can't be that hard to send a message. Going to a clandestine operation was one thing, but to be totally incommunicado was another thing altogether.

Her cellphone rang, she quickly grabbed for it. She was disappointed. It wasn't Spike. The screen said, 'Boss'. As fas as she was concerned, there was only one. "Hey, boss," she said trying her best to sound normal.

Greg didn't keep her in suspense, "I've heard from him, just so you know."

"Oh, that's nice," she said. But that was all he felt necessary to tell her and she knew better than to ask questions. So like usual, they talked about Dean, Marina and the dogs.

Thankfully, before ending the call, Parker cryptically said, "It won't be long now."

"Thank you," she said.

Bryce put the boy down. Ahmed sensing danger, whispered, "Come." They followed him inside a small house, Spike thought his living room was bigger. But the spartan home was neat and tidy, he asked, "Who lives here with you?"

Ahmed looked at Spike and said, "Me and my father only." The answer implied that he has lost his mother. Sadness filmed the child's eyes, Spike patted his head and said, "I'm sorry."

Bryce was very concern, "We can't stay here Ahmed, it's dangerous for you."

"It will be dark soon" said Ahmed. "You can leave when it's dark."

"He'll be looking for three men..." said Bryce to himself. He looked at Spike, then at Youssef, _but he's not looking for a man and his two wives. _The geek read the Wolf's mind and said, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Do you want to get out of here?"

Spike dropped his shoulders and said, "Of course."

Bryce asked Ahmed if there were women's clothing in the house, the boy grinned. He went to a cupboard and retrieve a beautifully embroidered gandora. It was too grand that Bryce wouldn't have it. "Do you mind?" he asked Ahmed. The boy shook his head, Bryce selected two plain looking gandoras and pashima shawls for head covering. Unfortunately, without even putting it on they knew the garment was way too short. Indecent by Moroccan standard and probably a stoning offense. Bryce returned the items neatly.

There was no choice but to ran the gauntlet. He gave Spike the djellaba and the slippers he purchased for him, "Put these on."

The geek did so without delay, "This reminds me of Obi Wan Kenobi," he said as he posed with arms across his chest. Bryce and the Algerian sniggered despite the tension.

Noises outside the window caught their attention. Walking pass was a wizened old man and his mule. Bryce quickly got on his feet, "Ahmed, can you asked the man to come in?"

The boy nodded, Bryce asked Spike and Youssef to hide in the courtyard. They crouched low behind a cracked disused fountain as the old man came into the house. With Ahmed interpreting, Bryce asked if he could buy his animal. The old man thought it. He gave his answer which the child interpreted, "He said he can't sell you the mule but you can rent it."

It was getting dark, with luck, the assassin wouldn't give four men and a mule a second glance. "Deal, we're good."

As they were leaving, Bryce worried about Ahmed. He told Spike to wait, "Just a sec." He went back inside the house, lifted the edge of a wall décor, a carpet of substantial size and wrote in pen his contact number, "Ahmed, if you ever need help... call that number. It doesn't matter where I am I will come for you."

"What's your name?"

Bryce smiled, "That I can't give you but you have my word... call me and I'll come for you."

The assassin was on the roof top. Stalking, surveying the surrounding environment with night vision goggle. He was a very patient man. There were still many people walking about despite the growing darkness. His interest was piqued by four men and a donkey, walking slowly uphill.

_I have to get closer._ TBR stealthily navigated the stone roof tops... closer and closer.

A sense of danger gripped Bryce and Spike, they looked at each other when suddenly a sound of gunfire jolted them. By the time Bryce pulled Spike to the ground he was already covered in blood.


	18. They're Not Dead Yet

**They're Not Dead... Yet**

_Fuck he's good! _

It doesn't matter what Hollywood tells you. Hitting a moving target, no matter how slow going, in the dark with just a hand gun even at just 50 metres, at an angle was never, ever easy.

Bryce took an iron-clad hold on his emotions, and asked evenly, "Spike?" He gave a small sigh of relief when the geek responded, "I'm ok. Youssef?" They both turned to the Algerian who was moaning. In a split second, the Wolf got off Spike, "Be ready to leg it. Take him with you, I'm goin after him."

They couldn't afford to hesitate. Even the old man and his mule found sprinting power.

Bryce sprang on his feet, jumped up to get a grip of the flat stone roof. Biceps bulging, he pulled himself up. The Wolf landed beautifully on his hands and knees, he looked around til he saw the retreating silhouette of TBR. Not the first time they had each others profile in their cross hairs.

The Rhino vs the Wolf.

He unholstered the Glock 17 strapped to his ankle. Bryce, a parkour practitioner, leaped from one roof to the next but the Rhino was no easy prey.

Spike, with massive dose of adrenaline coursing through his system, lifted the Algerian, hoisted him on his shoulder and legged it. With the weight of a full grown man on his shoulder, he has to go downhill. To the uninitiated, the medina was near impossible to get out of. But right now, lost was good. The main thing was not to be static.

Meeting up again with Wolf was a worry for another day, right now, he has to keep the Algerian alive. "Buddy, don't die on me?"

Youssef moaned. "Must tell you... must tell you..." he kept repeating.

_Whatever secrets you're hiding_, Spike thought grimly, _you gotta keep it to yourself til I can get us out of this shithole_. Then he thought of Winnie, _She's going to kill me._

Legs pumping, blood dripping all over him, anguished cries bombarding his eardrums, Spike tuned out. _Survive. Fuck I gotta survive this_. Swerve left, turn right, left, right. _Where's the end of this walled city? Does it ever end? _

Bryce's eyes strained to keep track of the Rhino's zig-zagging figure. There were masses of people on the roof top. Women hanging laundry, gossiping. Children playing and eating. Old men gossiping, smoking, or just idly watching. Everything happened on the roof top and now two ex-Special Forces men has joined in the fun.

The Aussie kept sprinting. _Getting closer._ Leaping over barriers, he thought, _as long as he stays on the roof, _but the Rhino was thinking exactly the same thing. The Zimbabwean jumped down. _Fuck. _It would be next to impossible to locate the Rhino down there. _No time to lose_, the Aussie jumped down too.

Spike had to pushed pass people meandering on the road like it was f'ing Hyde Park; not to mention squeezing between mules on a street that in some parts were less than a metre wide. His lungs were on fire. His arms strained with the weight of the Algerian. Legs gradually losing power. Then by some miracle they were on Central Square, the Grand Socco. He stopped, rested his back against the wall to catch his breath. There were many curious people about as he put the Algerian down. Practically hugging the wall, trying to ignore furtive glances cast their way, they walked a little further down to an isolated corner. He laid the Algerian down against the wall, removed his blood stained djellaba, thanking Almighty God that the maroon fabric was already the colour of blood; he covered the wounded man with it.

"I have to check your wound."

Youssef was in no position to argue, he was losing a lot of blood. Spike ripped the clothes off him. The Algerian was hit in the upper back. A little higher and a bit more to the left, it would have hit him in the base of the skull and it would have been game over. _That was one fucking good aim._

"Not a through and through. The bullet's inside you." Youssef didn't know how lucky he was to be alive and to be with Spike. The geeky elite Canadian police was not only a bomb tech and a computer whiz but Team Medic. "I gotta leave the bullet alone. The most important thing is to stem the blood loss."

Spike leaned over the man, "Be right back. Keep quiet, I'll get you out. Promise."

He checked his time-piece, 18:30 hours. Apart from a cup of tea at mid-day, and an aborted late lunch, he hasn't had anything to eat or drink. His stomach grumbled, street food abound but he couldn't risked it. He found a vendor selling bottled water, he bought six. The old man asked, "Touristique?"

"Oui." He said smiling. The old man was won over by the dimpled smile.

Walking back to the Algerian, he found a stall selling fabrics, he bought several dark ones; and a couple of dark coloured djellabas. He was sure it was overpriced at US$100 but he didn't care. _Every once in a while, someone has to have a windfall. _But it was a bad decision. He should have haggled because now vendors were all over him. He put his arms out, feared he has attracted the most unwanted attention. Soon, people were fighting over him, he quickly withdrew as the disagreement between vendors grew into a melee.

It was getting darker by the minute. Bryce kept his motor going. All of a sudden, a kick to his side. A woman passing him to his left became collateral damage. She screamed as she was thrown back against a wall. She scampered away crying; other pedestrians hurried away from the combatants.

The boot landed squarely on his kidney. Then the enormous Zimbabwean landed an elbow on the base of his skull as he was hunched around, sending massive signal of pain throughout his body. He dropped his firearm. It bounced several inches away from him.

Two in the morning, on his fourth night away from home, Belle woke up drenched in sweat. The dream was so real. She closed her eyes and clutched her marriage sarong and prayed desperately.

The Rhino has the Wolf in a headlock. In a matter of seconds, Bryce would be dead if he doesn't get the Rhino off him. The SAS trained on blood chokes, also called carotid restraint or sleeper holds. A form of strangulation that compresses one or both carotid arteries and/or the jugular veins without compressing the airway, this causes cerebral ischemia and a temporary hypoxic condition in the brain. Blood choke may lead to unconsciousness in a matter of seconds. And the bad news, properly applied blood chokes require little physical strength.

Spike returned to the Algerian. To his immense relief, Youssef was still conscious. _Something big is willing him on, keeping him alive_, thought Spike. He opened a water bottle, « Drink. You need to be hydrated. »

Ripping strips off the clean fabrics, he worked methodically, the geek talked him through the procedure he was doing. "I'm going to apply direct pressure to the wound." He uncapped another water bottle, poured it on the fabric to moisten it covered the serious open wounds with it then wrapped strips of cloth around Youssef's shoulders, looped this across his chest.

He threw the blood soaked djellaba in a pile of rotting cast off vegetables. He put on a fresh one and dressed Youssef with another. It was only then that he took a mouthful of the most refreshing drink he's ever had in his entire life.

Belle moaned in her sleep, "Bryce, please come home. Please." The marriage sarong was soaked in tears.

Using every ounce of strength he had left, the Wolf picked up a sharp-edged stone. With all his might stabbed it deep into the Rhino's thigh, narrowly missing the femoral artery. TBR yelped, loosened the hold. They locked eyes. Then the Rhino slinked back into the darkness, he pressed on the wound as he hobbled away. _There' still tomorrow. Another day you are mine._

Bryce's head throbbed like hell from lack of blood and oxygen. He greedily gulped oxygen into his lungs and waited until he regained some strength before he crawled to his Glock, reholstered it, and thought of his wife. "Belle, I'm coming home."

She heard knocking, a crying voice filtered through the closed door, "Belle." She leaped off the hammock, opened the door to find Rajo standing there in his wet pajamas. "I dreamed of Daddy," he sobbed.

She hugged the boy, then soothingly said, "It's ok, he'll be home soon. Come on, let's change you."

Bryce turned on his iphone, hoping to find Spike. The green light was static. "Stay put, mate."

It would be another couple of hours, navigating through the maze, hitting dead-ends, before they were reunited. Spike gave the Wolf a bottle of water, smiled and said, "Fuck me, can it get any worse ?"

Winnie suddenly had a passing thought, a psychic thought. _Can it get any worse?_ She murmured to herself, not understanding what made her say it. She felt the chills. Wrapping a shawl around her neck, and piling on the sweater, she walked out of the Lab to get some fresh air. The October chill hit her hard. She gathered her sweater to her front but the cold won't go away.


	19. Can it Get any Worse?

_Author's Note: As mentioned earlier, this story is set in the month of October, using Universal Coordinated Time, Tangier is 10 hours behind Queensland and Toronto is four hours behind Tangier._

**Can it Get any Worse?**

_Can it get any worse? _

Bryce mindlessly imbibed the water till there was none, not a drop left. He contemplatively looked at the empty bottle and thought, _You have no freaking idea._ Now that Spike has met up with the contact, he was determined to get them home or die trying. His assignment was, if only it was that simple, to get Spike in and out of Tangier. It's the geek's call whether to take the asylum-seeker with him or not. Considering what just happened, it appears to be a done deal.

With an injured man along for the return journey, swimming back to Tarifa was out of the question. Not when he's bleeding. Risk it and they'd all be sharks feed.

They need to find food and a place to rest. He leaned his head on his knees, trying to clear his head to think of a way out. His desperation was palpable, it wasn't because of where they're in; he's been held up in worst places and for a lot longer. It's more to do with wanting to be somewhere else.

Looking up, Bryce smiled tiredly, "How's he?"

Spike checked the Algerian's vitals, "Weak...he needs medical care. Bullet maybe lodged in the bone." The Aussie grimaced.

Belle stayed with Rajo until sleep claimed him. She didn't bother to return to bed; instead she made herself comfortable on a bean bag next to Rajo's little hammock. From where she was reclined, she watched the sun slowly forced its way out of the Eastern sky. It's now daybreak and she hasn't slept a wink. She looked at the kiddie wall clock to confirm the time, 06:30. She wondered what Bryce was doing. If he was home, he'd be out feeding the chickens but, God bless him, Raf has been doing it instead.

She noticed a little red toy train under Rajo's study table. She crawled to pick it up, it was well used and it has a wheel missing. Running the wheels of the train on her hand, she started singing... _the wheels on the train go round and round, round and round..._

An idea germinated in his brain, he checked his watch, 20:35. He would be cutting it fine but it was still possible. It's their best hope for food and rest, until he could figure a way out of Morocco. "Come on, Spike... let's go."

"Where to?"

"The train station. Tanger Ville."

The Algerian was now in delirium, writhing in pain, moaning and groaning and bathe in sweat. Youssef could definitely get them in very deep, hot water. They looked at each other but resigned themselves to the fact that they were now stuck with him through thick and thin.

The three of them walked to the taxi rank with Youssef sandwiched between them. Bryce leaned in the window. Lo and behold it was the same driver with two missing front teeth. The old man instantly paled and said, "No, no, no."

Bryce laughed, got into the front passenger seat, and motioned for Spike to follow. He assisted Youssef into the back seat before getting in himself.

"La gare Tanger Ville."

The driver visibly relaxed, engaged the engine and drove his three unusual passengers to the train station just inland from the far end of the sea front. It was a short trip but Bryce paid the driver a US$100.00, smiled and said, "Go home. It's late," pointing to his watch. The old man smiled, though not understanding a word the Aussie said.

"Beslama." They waved him off.

Bryce entered the Station alone while the others waited outside for a couple of minutes before wandering in. Instinctively, both Bryce and Spike looked for tell-tale signs of cameras, there didn't appear to be any. If there were, they were well concealed.

Housed in a three-level modern building, the new train station boosts of gleaming marble floor and numerous ticketing windows. Bryce approached one, asked for four tickets for the sleeping-berths (4-berth couchettes) for the Tangier-Marrakech overnight train departing in less than an hour.

He wasn't disappointed when told there was none available, he didn't expect there would be any as there was only one couchette car attached to every Moroccan train. He then asked for "four" first class tickets."

The seller shook her head, "No."

"Second class?" She nodded.

Bryce breathe out a sign of relief. Seat reservation isn't possible on second class, you just buy a ticket and hop on. As luck would have it, the carriage wasn't full. Armed with the tickets, Bryce motioned for the others to meet him on the platform. They boarded the train and sat separately.

"Hey, what are you still doing here? It's nearly six." Winnie glanced up from her piles of paper work. Her boss, Forensic specialist Imogen Suzuki was standing at the door of her lab.

"Just finishing some reports," she said in what she hoped sounded convincing. Truthfully, she couldn't bear to go home to her parents, it was getting harder and harder to fob off their concern.

"Don't stay too long. We don't want that cute husband of yours issuing a 'BOLO' on you," her French-Canadian boss jokingly said. Winnie waved a hand and stuck her tongue out.

Alone with her thoughts, she wondered what Spike might be doing. She looked at the time, 16:50. _I miss you so much._

Where he was seated, Spike checked his iphone, 20:50. He calculate the time difference and thought, _She's probably home playing with Moppet and Serenity. _Hungry, thirsty, exhausted, his longing for her was magnified. _Never again_, he said to himself.

At precisely 21:35, the overnight rain pulled out of the station.

Bryce removed his djellaba and improvised tote bag; handed them to Spike, "Mate, could you watch these for me?"

"Sure, no problem."

The Aussie casually walked over to the sleeping berth, called couchette. With 11 separate 4-berth compartments, he's hoping he could convinced a quad to give up theirs for a reasonable price. He knocked on the first compartment, a middle aged Caucasian woman opened the door. He glimpsed a child sleeping on the lower bunk so he said, "Sorry, wrong compartment."

The woman frowned and said, "Good thing you didn't wake up my baby." He apologised again.

He tried the next one; another family, "Sorry, wrong compartment."

After the fifth, he was getting deflated. It didn't look promising until he stood outside compartment six. The voices were loud, all male. He smiled. He'd recognise that accent anywhere: it's _strine_, colloquial for Australian accent.

He knocked. An Aussie of about 21 opened the door and said, "What's up, mate?"

"Hey, one of my mate's sick, I was wondering if you guys would swap with us. We're in 2nd class. I'd pay 75 for each ticket."

A voice inquired, "Dollars?"

Another said, "Idiot, what do you think?"

Defensively, the other guy said, "Well, he might have meant 75 Mexican pesos."

"U.S. Dollars," he said.

The boys started arguing among themselves. Bryce was not having any of it, "Look guys, you have two minutes to decide or I'm knocking next door."

The guy who opened the door said, "Make it US$100 per." He knew the overnight train ticket only cost US$50.00 each, _but what price sleep?_

"Done," he gave them four 2nd class tickets and US$400 in exchange for four couchette class tickets. "Great doing business with you."

The Aussie went to get Spike and Youssef, but the geek was nowhere. The only thing left was his djellaba draped on the back of the seat. _What the hell happened?_ He was about to flap big-time when he saw Spike coming back to his seat. His brow furrowed questioningly. Spike's eyes balls moved to the left. He looked over in the direction of Spike's shoulders, four members of the Moroccan gendarme has boarded their train. _Bugger._

Bryce scanned the car for Youssef, he was seated adjacent to them. _Ah shit_. He has to create a distraction so Spike could move the injured Algerian. _Improvise, you mug_. He gathered his djellaba and said, "Thanks for minding it, mate," as he shook hands with Spike, he handed over their new ticket.

The geek said, "You're welcome." Nodded to indicate he understood.

Bryce passed on Spike's left side, with dramatic flair, tripped on himself and landed on the lap of the gendarme, "Sorry, mate, sorry." The policemen made a great show of being annoyed at the clumsy tourist. The geek quickly went to aid Youssef off his seat. They were moving up the aisle as the four young Aussies were hauling their backpacks to 2nd class. The policemen's attention shifted to the guys, Bryce took advantage and quickly made himself scarce.

Once they were in their enclosed compartment, they laid Youssef on the lower bunk. He didn't look well at all. They heard rattling cart outside the door, Bryce opened it in time to see a man pushing a trolley of food. Drinks and snacks, just what they needed.

"You have any money on you?" he asked Spike. "I'm out."

Spike gave him a bundle, "Keep it."

Bryce bought a trolley-full of drinks, snacks, sandwiches and sweet coffee.

"What the hell?"

"I don't know about you, mate but I'm hungry as hell. Besides it only costs $30.00. And yeah, I didn't tell you, it's roughly 11 hour trip to Marrakech."

"Eleven hours?"

"Yeah, cause we need to eat. Sleep. And I need to think."

Bryce gobbled a sandwich, "We'll take it in turns to sleep. Two-hourly. Go ahead, get some kip." Spike climbed to the top bunk and fell asleep in an instant.

The sweet coffee provided Bryce just enough kick to stay awake for a couple more hours. That, and Youssef. He helped the Algerian to water. He was feverish although the train was air-conditioned. The injured man was bodily fighting infection. In his delirium, Youssef kept mumbling, "I must tell you ... I must tell you..." Bryce looked on, _whatever secret you're carrying... could get us all killed._

The old man didn't go home, he needed money for his son's medical expenses.

Bryce was his first passenger at mid-day and should have been the last at 20:35. He already made more than he usually makes in a week. But he decided to keep going until mid-night before calling it a night. He picked up another passenger not far from Grand Socco. A handsome black man with a limp. His right thigh was wrapped in a bandage, _Harmless enough_, he thought.

And mercy of all mercy, he spoke in fluent Arabic.

The old man happily chatted up the Black Rhino, told him how it's been a magnificent day, how he had been blessed with a generous passenger. The Zimbabwean nodded without really listening until the old man said, "He's a very strange man. Sounded real funny."

"Funny how?"

The old man shrugged, "Just unusual, when I picked him up again... he has two friends with him. I took them to the train station."

"The friend, one of them Algerian?"

"Don't know, he never said a word. But he looked really sick."

"They're my friends too. Change of plans, take me to the train station."

The old man suddenly felt suspicious. He knew he shouldn't have... but it was too late. He made the mistake of asking why. The Black Rhino ignored him, "I'm paying you to drive," he said.

When they reach the station. TBR coldly slashed his throat, "No loose ends," he said. Then he took the old man's earnings.

_One thing you've failed to learn, Wolf. No loose ends._

The Station was deserted but the information board was there for all to see. The last overnight train was going to Marrakech, stopping at Meknes, Fes, Rabat, Casablanca along the way. The ex Zimbabwe SAS pressed '1' on his phone and mobilised five kill teams. One for every stop.

He grinned devilishly_, Game over_.


	20. By the Skin of their Teeth

_Author's Note: Diane, this chapter is dedicated to you. _

_As I continue on with the remaining chapters, I shall dedicate chapters, as per my tradition to my wonderful readers. My way of saying, "Thank you."_

**By the Skin of their Teeth**

The train pulled into Meknes station at 24:00. Bryce tapped the metal frame of the upper bunk. "Mate, your turn." Spike was awake instantly and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He rolled out of bed, sat up on the thin mattress, and dangled his legs on the metal ladder.

Bryce waited until Spike was fully operational before turning into his bunk, the lower bunk off the left of Youssef.

"Mate, I suggest you tape his confession. He doesn't have long." They looked down on Youssef who was barely conscious; by now he was only speaking in his mother tongue. They knew at this stage, as he clutched at life, the Algerian could only speak the truth. The creative side of the brain would have shut down by now, falsities and legends gone, if there were any; only truth remained.

"He paid the ultimate price, Spike, you gotta make it mean something." Spike nodded. He waited for Bryce to turn in. The tall Aussie stretched his long frame out, and used the djellaba to cover his face. Remembering something, he uncovered his face again, "Ah, Spike... when it's time to rouse me, just tap my boot. Shaking my shoulder would be an accident waiting to happen."

"No problem." _Must be a soldier thing_, he thought. Sam Braddock has the same issue.

Spike sat on the edge of Youssef's bed, glad that Bryce has left him something to eat. He couldn't help smiling over a heap of food wrappers neatly piled up in a corner. He drank two bottles of water to satisfy his thirst before attending to the Algerian; he supported his head so he could get some liquid in.

A team of four Algerian hard men boarded the train; two in 2nd class car, the other two entered 1st class. They didn't think it was possible for Aussie and Co. to have acquired tickets for couchette class at such a late booking so they left two men on the platform in case their quarries give them the slip.

After searching the cars twice over, the team leader called TBR, "We've not seen them in 1st or 2nd class. There are gendarme on the train. What do you want us to do?" The presence of the police was a definite game changer. TBR preferred to keep it clean, to leave a trail of destruction would be bad, downright stupid. It has to be surgical, clean, precise.

"Patience is the key, bide their time. It's a long way to Marrakech. When the gendarme disembarks, do a proper search. Are you sure they haven't given you the slip?"

"No, we had men on the platform."

"Good. Six more will join you in Fes. Leave the Australian to me, execute the others."

Youssef sensed death was imminent, he reached for Spike; grabbing and speaking in Arabic. The voice was hoarse, guttural. The sound coming out of him was full of urgency. Spike crouched over him and set his iphone to record the moment. Finally, a chance to tell his secret. It seemed to Spike that it infused Youssef with renewed energy. The Algerian spoke with emotional conviction. He spoke into the iphone's camera for nearly two hours, stopping only to sip a bit of water.

At one point, Youssef's head rolled closed to his chin, Spike thought he might have expired. He pressed two fingers against the carotid pulse on the neck, one side at a time. He was still alive, barely hanging in there. Spike convinced himself that perhaps the Algerian could possibly cheat death.

An announcement was made over the train's tannoy system. He heard "Fes" mentioned, he checked the time, 02:00. Two hours has passed. He tapped Wolf's boot. Two bluey-green eyes stared in the semi darkness.

Wolf sat up in bed careful not to bump his head against the upper bunk. Sensing movements, the Algerian whispered something unintelligible. Spike and Bryce huddled close to him, encouraging him; with his last ounce of strength, he clenched the men's hand in his, his last words to them were a blessing, "As-salaamu 'Alaykum." _Peace be unto you_.

Bryce responded with "Wa alaikumu el salaamu." _May peace be with you also_.

With that, Youssef closed his eyes for all eternity. Spike checked for a pulse, there was none. Bryce covered him with a blanket.

"Did he tell you anything?"

The geek nodded, "It's all here," waving the gadget.

"We're nearly in Fes. There's no point going all the way to Marrakech, we'll get off here and swim back to Tarifa. Let's get ready." They sanitised Youssef which basically meant when he is found there would be nothing on him.

Bryce put his djellaba back on; so did Spike. Both have started to smell like their environment, it's been two days since they had a shower, brushed their teeth or even just a modicum of a wash. Spike had the thought that at least Winnie wasn't with him to see him at his worse.

Another announcement was made, "We're stopping soon, get ready." He didn't require an improvised tote anymore so Bryce put on the turban this time, changing his appearance completely.

"How you'd know how to make a turban?"

"I lived in Morocco for six months, in Rabat. So, to be honest, we can't go there. I'd be a dead man," he said smirking.

Six men were on the alert at Fes train station. The team leader reminded them, "We're looking for three men, one of them's injured so can't possibly fucking miss them. They're not on 1st and 2nd class. We're going to check the couchette car.

"You two," pointing to the most inexperienced members of his team, "man the platform."

The train pulled into the Fes train station, the policemen were first off the 2nd class carriage. Four Algerian men split up. Two entered the front door, the other two the rear. The original four who boarded at Meknes joined the ones on the platform, and formed a line along its length, eyes roaming back and forth. A very obvious cordon if there was one.

Spike and Bryce left their compartment and headed for the rear exit. The Wolf was immediately on the alert. His situational alertness kicked in big-time. There was something about the two men who just got on, especially when they started to rattle the door of the compartments, disturbing the peace in the process. They heard the same noise from the other end. Spike also has a sense of danger. Discreetly, the geek tugged at Wolf's robe, he tugged back. _COPY_.

The line of six men standing at attention, scanning the crowd was a dead giveaway. _Idiots_, thought Bryce. Spike felt like bolting in the other direction but Bryce nudged him forward., whispered, "Act normally." He let Spike walk ahead of him, he lagged about two feet behind, and deliberately walked closer to a young boy and his older brother.

They just made it out of the Station when there was a sudden commotion, one of the men has found Youssef's lifeless body, and shouted a warning. Six men on the platform gave chased to any two men walking side by side. Spike maintained his pace, breathing out of his mouth. He has gained a metre.

He lowered his heart rate though inside he was flapping. **Two** metres.

This was far beyond his capabilities, at least with bombs he has a fairly good idea what he was dealing with but these were Middle Eastern goons, _connect, respect, protect doesn't work here. _**Three** metres.

He debated with himself whether to turn around to check for Bryce. Becoming separated now would be his death sentence, he was sure of it. **Four** metres.

Suddenly a breeze passed him, it was Bryce's djellaba flapping in the wind as his walked briskly. He was now going to take point. Spike maintained a two-feet distance but kept his eyes on Bryce who has crossed the street. It took all his self-discipline not to follow suit.

Hairs on his neck stood as he sensed two men running after him, he knew if they accosted him there was no way he'd be able to act his way out of trouble.

Bryce disappeared from view. Spike also crossed the street, trying his hardest to be oblivious to activities behind him. One of the men angrily called out, he stopped just under the lamp post. He removed the hood of his djellaba and hoped he was sufficiently tanned to appear Berber. Under the circumstances, it was the best he could do.

Bryce's back was against the wall on the building directly opposite, he murmured to himself, "Bloody don't open your mouth." In any case, he readied his Glock.

The two men faced Spike in a confrontational manner, fast brain processor kicked in, "Posso aiutarla?" he said in fluid Italian. The men lost interest. They were looking for an Australian, and an Algerian who was already dead. They weren't sure about the nationality of the third guy. He could also be Australian or American but surely not Italian.

One of the men, asked, "Che ci fai qui?"

He replied, "Vacanza."

The team leader reported back to TBR, the Zimbabwean was ballistic with rage. _Idiots._ Nevertheless, he was convinced Aussie and his partner would return to Tangier now that the Algerian was dead. They'd be morons to cross the border into Algeria or Western Sahara when Gib is just a spit away across the pond. He ordered all 30 men to converge in Tangier.

Bryce and Spike mutually decided not to hang around but to keep moving. They have to get back to Tangier where their gears were stashed. The train was a no-go zone. A comfortable looking Mercedes Benz slowed, looking for passengers. Bryce hailed it. Unlike petit taxis, the Grande do not have a counter/taximeter so Bryce negotiated with the driver for a price to get them to Tangier, "Exclusive" he insisted for Grande taxi drivers are also allowed to pick up other passengers along the way, he wasn't going to have any of it.

The final offer was US$300, but the driver was still playing hard to get. Frustrated, Bryce flagged down another, the driver quickly said, "Ok, ok."

Wolf got on the front passenger seat, before they started off, he drew a road map on a piece of scrap paper to show the driver the journey he wished to take, "Take the auto piste in the direction of Rabat, and then the auto piste to Tangier." The driver nodded happily.

Bryce turned to Spike, "The trip is about four to five hours, we'll take turns to sleep. You go first."

It was close to seven in the morning when they reached Tangier. Spike proposed they look for a place to lay low, rest, fuel up for the swim back to Tarifa.

"Good idea." He asked the driver to take them to Place DE France, a small French-inspired square right in the middle of the Ville Nouvelle with many street cafés. They chose to have breakfast at Terrasse des Paresseux just east of the Place for an amazing view of the sea.

Bryce's eyes fell on newspaper hanging in a newspaper rack. He recognised the old man on the photo. The cut, the bloodied throat, reminded him of TBR's handiwork.

"Bryce."

He turned, Spike had already settled his butt. _Not a good spot_. Spike liked the views. He would have preferred to sit with his back against the wall and a view of people coming and going. They didn't stay long though. They had gotten used to their smell and appearance and thought nothing of it, until the Manager of the café asked them to "please" take their coffee somewhere else.

About 0.3 metres from Terrasse des Paresseux they found a budget accommodation and paid for a night. In typical Spike fashion, he befriended the owner/manager who upon hearing their story offered to get room service up to them.

"Do you do laundry service?" asked Bryce.

Taking a close look at them, the owner/manager laughed, "No washing machine can clean those but yes, put them in a bag and I'll get them done for you."

Thirty men met up with TBR. They still had no idea who Spike was but everyone has a five-year old photo of the Wolf on their phone. He assigned them into quadrants. They were not to rest, eat, sleep until the Wolf was found. It was personal.

After a warm shower and a hearty breakfast, Spike and Bryce slept the sleep of the dead.

Spike jolt out of bed. Alarmed. Someone was punching the wall of the Aussie's room. _What the hell?_ He put his ears on the wall, there seemed to be no one there but Bryce himself. His eyes fell on the alarm clock, 13:00. The hours flew.

_I have to get in there. _

Spike jumped out of bed, banged on Bryce's door. No answer. He took matters in his own hands and picked the lock. He opened the door wide, "Bryce!"

Wolf was drenched in sweat, his breathing ragged, and his fists were bleeding from bashing the wall.

"Nightmare?" The Aussie nodded.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Bryce splashed water on his face. "It's the Black Rhino. The guy who shot the Algerian was a former Zimbabwe SAS. We worked together years ago, he used to be a good operative until he lost the plot. Alcohol and cocaine. Around five, six years ago, we were in on a R and R in Nicaragua. He took a woman to his room for sex. By the time he was done with her, she had four facial fractures, one of her fake breast popped out of her chest cavity... he had violently pulled on her breast. Anally raped her and tore her perineum. I found her on the hallway of the hotel, she had crawled out of the room."

The Wolf was drowning in tears.

"I called for an ambulance. TBR was arrested. The Regiment asked me what I knew, what was I to say? The woman was hardly recognizable. I've seen all sorts of mess Spike... but nothing would compare to that. Weeks and months after that I used to dream of TBR raping my Mum or Billy. Now, Belle."

Bryce cradled his head on his hands, "Spike, it's personal. Til one of us is buried six feet under, I'll forever look over my shoulder. I would be better off... I can only get rid of this nightmare... when it's done."

Deep inside, Bryce knew it has to end, sooner rather than later because if TBR even contemplated to follow his trail back to Gregory Downs his Mum, Billy or Belle would never be safe. _It ends here. Today._

He smiled at Spike. "How do you plan to send your gift?"

The geek smiled back, "It's done." He had hacked into a password protected WI-fi and sent the audio file to a secure computer to START and CSIS.

"One word of advice, mate. Hide the thumb drive somewhere safe and get the coordinates to your people. We're not out of the woods yet, this way, whatever happens to us..."

"Good idea."

Meantime, TBR was prowling his self- assigned quadrant. The shores of Tangier. _He'd be here_, he mused. _You are dead. _

He thought back to being kicked out of the SAS, recounted the hell he endured in a Nicaraguan jail all for a bitch who was asking for it.

_You're mine and you're dead._

.


	21. Sierra on X-ray

_Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to "A" guest, and "guest" and "guest". So far, I could determine three distinct individuals. I'm very grateful to you guys. _

_Also, I'd like to give a shout-out to readers from Slovakia. Wow, that's amazing._

**Sierra on X-Ray**

Bryce and Spike worked out a battle plan. It was clear no one has connected them together so they would keep it that way. "We'll rendezous at Punta Cires at 19:00 hours. Find a hiding place for the thumb drive, someone can collect it later."

"What about you? What's your plan?" Bryce looked out the window, smiled and said, "Not much. Lay low and wait for RV."

Spike gave a hesitant nod, but he knew what Bryce was thinking. _Perhaps I should back him up_. The Aussie read his mind, "Don't even think about it. Do what you have to do, I'll sort my shit out."

At 14:00 hours, Spike went out for a meal, a proper one this time. His mind drifted to Toronto, he missed the familiar sights and sounds and the people that rocked his world. An image of his wife, worrying and wondering where he was, prompted him to do something risky but at least he was smart enough not to get caught. He paid for his late lunch with the local currency, the dirham; and with compliments to the chef.

He ventured out and around the French quarters in search of an internet café. It didn't take long to find one being a touristy locale. He logged on to an inactive account, username: bbbabycakes. It just lays dormant until he needs it. He attached an audio file to an email then hit send.

Where she was was 10:00 hours, she has been at work since 08:00 in an effort to avoid her Mom and Dad. The tension was killing her, so she made a decision to move back home tomorrow.

"Late night again?" teased one of the other Lab Rats. She has dark eye bags no make up could hide. Deflecting the observation, she said, "Oh, you guys are always picking on me."

"Your husband has been neglecting you. Tell Spike to come here and we'll give him a talking-to." Winnie just smiled and thought, _yeah, if only I know where he is_.

She sat on her stool ready to start another ballistics test when she noticed something on her computer, "You've got a message," it said. She smiled when she saw the username, it could only be him. There was no subject line, no message and no signature; only a audio file attachment. She clicked it and had a giggle when a verse from Michael Bublé's "Home" played.

_Another aeroplane  
Another sunny place  
I'm lucky, I know  
But I wanna go home  
Mmmm, I've got to go home_

_Let me go home_  
_I'm just too far from where you are_  
_I wanna come home_

She jumped up, pumped her fists and shouted "Yes, yes, yes, yes." Her happiness was so incredible the Lab Rats thought she won lotto.

Before Spike logged out, he finally "killed" the account. That was the last time he was going to use it. As he stepped out of the internet café, he noticed a black man casually drinking coffee in a street café. There was something about the man that screamed SAS. It was the rough and tumble looks, and the shemagh wrapped around his neck. Special Forces had taken to wearing it on operations in the desert although that alone didn't suggest he was SF since the shemagh is a traditional Arab garb. BUT there was something definable in the way it was looped around his neck.

He took a seat next to the man, ordered a cappuchino and gave the man a friendly nod. "South African?" he asked.

The man didn't say a word, simply nodded and Spike thought, _Yeah, like I believe you_. He observed Mr Black's phone rang every 10 to 12 minutes, he puts it next to his ear but doesn't say a word. Spike concluded a few people were reporting to him on an hourly rotation. He finished his coffee, checked his time, 15:00 hours. _Time to make a call_.

He found a pay phone not far from where TBR's butt was parked. He fed the old red phone coins and dialled Bryce's number.

"Wolf" he replied.

"I know where he is."

"I got eyes on X-ray." Surprised, Spike turned around yet saw no one resembling Bryce.

"Will you stop looking around," he said laughing. "Do your touristy thing. Buy some souvenirs so we're not going home empty handed."

"Ok... take care will you. I don't want to tow you across the Strait in a body bag."

"No chance of that, mate."

They disconnected the call, Spike scratched his head. He didn't see Bryce because the Wolf was perched on the rooftop, plenty of flat rooftops here. What Spike didn't know was after they went their separate ways, Bryce called a friend, a member of Morocco's Special Forces GIGR.

"Mate, I need a high powered bino."

"Not a problem, where do you want me to drop it off."

"French quarters, café district, I'll find you."

The meeting between friends was short, someone timing it would have doubted they knew each other. It was a bump, plain and simple. One day they'll catch up again. The mate has a long standing invite to visit Queensland.

Wolf bought take-away food and took them to the highest possible vantage point. From there, he enjoyed traditional Moroccan meal washed down with Coke. He guessed rightly TBR would only have his meals in the French quarter, he wasn't disappointed.

As he watched TBR from the scope of his bino, Bryce thought about it clinically. If he let him get away, he may not find him again. An idea crossed his mind.

It was one in the morning down under in Gregory Downs. Belle woke up with a start. She felt an unexplainable feeling of dread. Sleep has abandoned her, she padded out of the room to check on Rajo. Her beautiful African boy was fast asleep. She laid on the bean bag, recalling a conversation she had with him earlier in the day. "So, have you decided what you like to call me?"

The boy nodded happily, "Yes, I'll call you Ma-Belle."

"I love that, thank you."

"If you have a baby, what will he call you?"

"Your baby brother or sister will call me, Ma-Belle, too. It can't be different."

The boy was delighted, "You have to admit, it's better than '_That Cameron woman_.'"

"No one's called me that," she said laughing.

"Oh, yeah... they will," he said nodding vigorously. "When we go to town, people say to Aunt Billy '_Oh, you're that Cameron woman_,' Aunt Billy gets all cranky and she says, 'My name is Billy. Not that Cameron woman." She cracked up laughing.

"They say that to Nanna, too. But she doesn't mind. To everyone she's just 'Mrs Cameron'."

Then she was struck by something. She got up in a hurry to catch a glimpse of a blazing shooting star whizzing past the darkened sky. Hands on heart, she made a desperate wish; it may seem childish but it bouyed her spirit and it gave her hope. "I wish you're here. I just want to hug you."

Bryce bagged everything up, surveyed his surroundings and made sure nothing was left behind. He re-entered the building the way he got up the roof, through an attic window left opened. Racing down the stairs two steps at a time, he surprised a couple of people along the way. He smiled at them, said a polite "Hello" and continued on his merry way. He dumped his rubbish in a bin, walked to the middle of the road, then paused directly across TBR. Several drivers cursed and beeped at him angrily.

So here they were. The wolf and the Black Rhino in a deathly stare down. He waited til TBR was on his feet before bolting in the direction of the sea. He has already chosen an isolated strip of beach. This show was for the two of them. No collateral damage. He didn't even have to worry about the posse. This was personal. TBR wouldn't have any satisfaction unless he was able to do him alone.

Traffic snarled with Wolf and the Black Rhino chasing each other down the middle of the road. Weaving, ducking, hurdling, sliding. He has the advantage of two good legs but the Black Rhino was tough. A bandaged leg would not stop his murderous intent. The longer the chase went on, the angrier the Zimbabwean became. Not a good mental state to be in when you want to kill someone. Killers have to be dispassionate, detached, unemotional.

Finally, after a good half hour of extreme chase, Bryce reached the isolated part of the beach. He rested behind a craggy rock, emptied a bottle of water down him to rehydrate and to gather his wits. A couple of minute later, he heard crunching sound of sand underfoot. The Black Rhino appeared in his line of sight.

He came out. Arms out, holding his Glock 17. Cocked and ready to fire. He walked towards the African. "Time we end this," he said.

"So what you'll just gonna shoot me like a coward?"

With dagger looks, Bryce replied, "You can talk." They eagle-eyed each other. Calculating every moves. Bryce could feel his anger bubbling over, but he put a lid on it as best he can. He'd very much like to kill the scum of the earth but he also need to be able to look himself in the mirror, so he lowered his weapon. But his eyes never left the '_Puma_' logo on TBR's shirt.

The Black Rhino smirked, _Come on, lower it a bit more. _As soon as Bryce did, he pulled his favourite Glock 34, 9mm pistol from the small of his back. Just what Bryce was waiting for. One on one. Face to face. They fired at the same time.

Bryce didn't miss, he aimed for the biggest part of the human body, the upper torso. He has been eyeing _that_ Puma, zeroing in on it and it was bull's eye. Right on the heart of the heartless beast. TBR had aimed for his head. A smaller target although a guaranteed instant kill. Bryce walked over to the hunched figure, "You missed."

Just to be sure, he gave TBR another one to the back of the head, "That's for you old man."

The beach was still deserted, so he took time to sanitised TBR. From the right pocket Bryce pulled two US$100 bills. He sighed. He took the gun, the phone, wallet and wrist watch; then he rolled the dead man into the water. He watched the lifeless body bob up and down the surf until the sea swallowed him up. Then he tossed in the contents of the wallet, one at a time, followed by the wallet itself. Then the inscribed watch followed into the watery grave.

The gun and the phone he'd give to Spike. It might reveal who ordered the hit on the Algerian.

At exactly 19:00 hours, after a nightmare-free sleep, Spike and Bryce swam back to Tarifa, Spain.

They were homeward bound.


	22. Mad as Mad Max

_Author's Note: Pennie from snowy Iowa, this is for you. A happy chapter after a series of hair-raising ones._

**Mad as Mad Max**

Exactly midnight, another five hours underwater, when they reached Tarifa, Spain. They boarded the yacht relieved to have made it out in one piece.

They momentarily laid on the deck exhausted as hell; only deeply ingrained discipline forced them on their feet. Any longer on deck and they might fall asleep. Having risked life and limbs, the last thing they want was to compromise the mission by causing an international incident.

They went inside, closed the windows and doors to minimise sound drift. In the dark, they stripped off the wetsuit and changed back to the only clothes they've had on for close to a week. Thank God it had at least been laundered once.

In hushed tones, Spike told Bryce he would never forget how his socks felt like stiffened cardboard when he finally took them off his feet; or the smell of his clothes that was both rancid and pongy. And his teeth, the filmy feeling on his teeth! "Never again," he said, "But it didn't seem to bother you."

"I've been gritty and dirty more years of my life than I was clean. You think you were dirty, huh! Try being submerged in mud for three days – then you'd know dirty." Spike cringed.

"There's just no amount of money they could pay me to do that", he said.

"That's just it, no one does it for the money."

Bryce started the engine, it sounded so loud in the quite. Spanish coast guard authorities are watchful and vigilant. They have been known to shadow water vessels, especially ones that travel at night. It would be really bad to be mistaken for drug runners now and be boarded by authorities. It dawned on Spike they really were not out of the woods yet.

Maneuvering the yacht out of its moorings in a tightly packed marina, in the dark, required an amazing level of skill and an equally amazing amount of luck. The only light source were the moon, the stars, the town lights in the horizon and the few in the marina. Now though wasn't the time to hesitate.

As soon as they were in the open water, Spike asked the question he'd been dying to ask, "Tell me," how is it possible to have a tank that last 10 hours in the water, even if for argument sake, we were just low underwater and we were light breathers?"

Bryce smiled, "They were not the same tanks." He softly laughed at the Geek's facial expression, "After we stored the gears, I sent the coordinates to the Asset on the ground who re-supplied us with fresh ones. They're specialist military gears, we couldn't have found them anywhere unless supplied to us."

"Man, I wouldn't want anyone else on my back..."

"Been doing it a long time..."

"I don't know," Spike said, "A lot of it is you. Just the way you are."

"Well, it's mutual. If I had a whimpering, whining, whinging geek in there, I'd have lost it." They laughed at each other.

Now that they were in the open water, drifting slowly, they could enjoy it a bit more. The views outside looked surreal shrouded in twinkling night light. The surface of the water was dotted with water crafts of all shapes and sizes, bobbing up and down, and some moving smoothly across it. All lit up from stern to bow, they appeared to be floating lanterns.

Somewhere down under, Billy has been non-stop. She persisted; from early morning until nearly mid-day; she wouldn't take no for an answer. Raf finally stepped in, "Belle, please, for the love of God do as she says. It wouldn't kill you to get out of the house. I promise, you'll enjoy the drive to town."

"Can I come, too?" asked Rajo.

Feeling ganged up upon, Belle finally agreed to go. "But how far is it?"

"Just round the corner," said Billy with a straight face.

"Why don't I believe you?" she said laughing. "Ok, give me 5 minutes to get ready."

Back at the Strait of Gibraltar, it was nearly 03:00 when they reached Gib. At the end of the pier Spike stopped, shook the Wolf's hand and said, "You're mad as Mad Max, buddy." Then added, "I leave today, can't wait to go home."

Bryce smiled, slapped the geek's arm, "Give our love to Winnie."

"And ours to Raf, Belle and Billy." Then they went in opposite directions.

Spike hailed a cab to get him to his hotel faster. He had no time for sleep, with copious amount of caffeine, he researched online for a quicker way home. _There has to be another way!_ He found it. He ditched the tickets the genius at CSIS booked for him. Obviously, that genius only ever did e-travel.

He hoped against hope that there would be a seat available at such short notice. When he finally printed out his ticket, he was utterly convinced someone up there was looking after him. His self-designed itinerary would bring him home in 19 hours instead of over 24. Without a doubt, he could teach CSIS staff a thing or two on travel arrangement.

He checked out of the hotel at 04:30. Boarded the 06:20 Air Arabia to Madrid Spain. It arrived on time at 09:55. He rushed to the KLM check-in counter for a connecting flight to Toronto via New York, it left at10:30 scheduled to arrive at Pearson International at 21:17 hours.

While KLM was over the Atlantic, Winnie was frantically packing. "Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Winifreda.

"Mom, Spike's on his way home from holiday. I need to be there when he gets home."

"How do I know you're not lying to me?"

She crossed her fingers behind her back, "'Cause we'll come visit, ok? Together."

Her parents knew when they were defeated and backed off. Moppet and Serenity were happy as Larry, wagged their tail, jumped in the car without hesitation, and lolled their tongue as if to say "Bye now, see you later. We're off to see Daddy." Winnie smilingly waved at her parents and drove off to their love nest. Little did she know that by 22:00 hours that same day Spike would be home!

Mad as Mad Max Bryce arrived back at his hotel, barefoot, disheveled and tousled . He asked the lovely hotel concierge to book his return flight, with a request thrown in to be upgraded from business to first class for the London to Singapore leg of this trip. Bryce Mabo Cameron would not have been able to do it, but his alter-ego Byron Rice could. After all, his cover was that of a frequent flyer millionaire playboy.

His next order of business was to contact his handler to say all went well. He knew from experience that Intelligence would want a debrief as soon as his feet touched Darwin so he asked to be met at the Airport, making it clear he had no intention of boarding _HMAS Toowoomba_ for a chit-chat. But he also knew from experience that no pencil pushing bureaucrats ever listened to operatives. Predictably, a helo would be sent to pick him up and ordered to whisk him to the Naval Frigate. He smiled to himself, _It would be one very brave Navy pilot who would dare fly me anywhere but home. _He cracked his knuckles, "Game on." Mad Max was alive and well.

Bryce showered and jumped into bed but couldn't sleep. Too much adrenaline? _Nah. _ He couldn't be bothered with formality, he simply grabbed his hotel room keycard, wrapped himself in a robe and made the call from the foyer. Sue answered.

"Hey Mum."

"Bryce! You're alive." She said cackling happily.

"How's everyone?"

"Very good, we're all well. But they're all in town. Your sister dragged your wife out of the house. It took some doing."

"I'm glad," he said. "I'm flying out tonight, home in two days early morning. Can't be more specific."

"Do you want me to tell her?"

"No... it's a surprise."

"Ok, take care."

"I will, see you soon. Love you, Mum."

He asked the receptionist to wake him up at 17:00 hours, "I'm checking out."

Then he slept until it was time to move his ass. From thereon, it was fast and furious. He boarded the 19:15 Monarch Airlines flight from Gib to London which arrived at 21:00 hours. He then transferred to the 21:55 Qantas Airline flight for Singapore. Changed to another plane for the connecting flight to Darwin. It would have killed a man less fit. But if he hadn't upgraded to the sleeper class for the London to Singapore leg, it would have probably killed him, too.

As expected, a helo was waiting for him at the rooftop of the Darwin International's car park. He nodded to the pilot and gave the coordinates to Cameron Country.

"With due respect, Sir, I've been ordered to take you to HMS Toowoomba."

"Well, the order has changed cause you see, I can put you to sleep and fly this beast myself."

"You wouldn't do that, Sir. It's a criminal offense."

He bored into the pilot's eyes, "Do I look to you like I care."

"No, Sir, but what do I tell them."

"I don't care what you tell them, but you're taking me home. Understood."

"Yes, Sir." The pilot called _HMAS Toowoomba_ to let them know that the passenger was uncooperative and didn't wish to be taken on-board the Frigate.

The handler angrily asked to speak with the Wolf, "Sir, someone wants to talk to you."

The head-set was passed on to Bryce. As expected the handler prattled on, lecturing him about protocol and responsibility and command structure and etc, etc, etc. The Navy Pilot sniggered his head off as Bryce "snored" through the head set.

"Cameron, are you there? I'll have you Court martialed!" he threatened.

Bryce removed the head set, looked at the pilot, "Who's this idiot? I've left the Regiment, how on earth he's gonna court martial me?"

Right, the pilot decided he'd rather be on the Wolf's good side and flew him home.

When he landed back at the Frigate minus a passenger, he was summoned, "Where's Cameron?"

"Sir, you wouldn't believe this but he jumped! I could hardly be expected to fly the helo and stop him at the same time, could I?"


	23. Back Where They Belong

_Author's Note: It's time to reveal who I based the character of Bryce Mabo Cameron on. He was a genuine Australian SAS hero, his name is Keith Fennell. You can view him on youtube, just search for "Former SAS Soldier Talks to A Current Affair"; a news magazine television format in Australia. _

_This story is only a figment of my imagination, but I like my writing to be founded in truth. Like Mr Kennell, my hero has to be authentic. He has to have the balls to put family first when he has to; but be genuine enough to admit there's always a "hook there that always want to draw you back."_

_Bryce Mabo Cameron is NOT Keith Fennell but he inspired the persona of my character. _

_Bravo to all serving men and women, SF et al._

**Back Where They Belong**

It was the dogs that alerted Winnie that someone special has arrived home. It couldn't have been an intruder for they weren't growling, snarling and baring their teeth. They were downright crazy. Moppet was barking, rolling on the floor on her back expecting someone to tickle her tummy any minute now. Wiggling her hips, _Any minute now_.

Serenity was blindly running around like crazy, bumping into things, tipping them over, and knocking against her legs.

She was hysterical with laughter, "What's wrong with you two?"

Then she heard the lock being turned, the dogs leaped up and raced her to the door. No contest. She was relegated to last. Moppet and Serenity were jumping up and down around Spike, rubbing against his legs, barking madly.

Winnie stood against the couch watching their dogs' antics. Spike made a comment that at least the dogs were happy to see him. She said, "I so want to be with you this very second but do you think they'll let me?" He smirked and did what the dogs expected of him. He laid on the floor and wrestled with them, knocking down more and more things off tables and shelves.

When they were finally exhausted, Winnie firmly spoke to the canines and said, "Out now." The two knew who was Top Dog and obeyed willingly. Spike looked at Winnie in utter disbelief, "You could have done that 10 minutes ago."

She laughed out loud, laid on the floor next to him and said, "I missed you like hell. I'm not letting you out of my sight ever again."

"It's so good to be home," said the sooky one.

That entire week-end, they practically had to be surgically separated.

It took Bryce another day and a half to get home due to the day/time difference. It was just seven in the morning. Billy and Raf were out on the paddock; they looked up when they heard bird's rotors thumping sound as it neared. They watched as the helo's down draft whipped up dust and dirt like a mini tornado.

"Come on, let's go," Billy said tugging at her husband's shirt. Raf rolled his eyes and said, "Can't wait to take you home to Toronto."

Sue and Belle were in the kitchen having breakfast when the rattling windows and pressed steel roof gave them cause for pause. They rushed out to see what was going on. "I hope it's not an unexpected gale force wind," said Sue in a worried tone.

_There's no mistaking that sound. _Rajo opened his eyes and rolled himself out of the hammock, rushed out his bedroom in his pajamas. He raced out to see his Dad arrive in grand style. The helo didn't touched down but hovered 10 feet off the ground. Bryce had his backpack firmly attached to him so it doesn't move out of place and get in the way of his stunt. They held their collective breathe as Bryce came out of the cabin, stood on the landing gear, held on to the frame two-handed as he dangled down it. Then he jumped the remaining four feet. So, when the Navy Pilot reported he jumped off it, he technically did.

Family members were coming from all directions. First there was Rajo, then there was Billy and Raf and then there was Sue. Belle hanged back. She happily let everyone have their turn. Her heart thumping loudly in its cavity as she watched the happy homecoming. In a flash, she thought, _This is my husband of one week_.

She leaned on the veranda's column, a hand wrapped around it, and watched him toss Rajo in the air, kiss and hug the Cameron women, and then hug Raf.

He turned to her, his eyes gave her a appraising look. She was dressed in an airy, pale yellow kaftan shirt, denim shorts and a pair of strapped sandals, just the sort of outfit to survive the hot outback. But yesterday, when she went to town, she went to town on her hair. Her waist-length hair has been reduced to millimeters. It was shaved so short his hair was longer. _At least_, he thought, _unlike Billy, she isn't a tomboy_. She looked down not sure if he'd be upset about it.

He walked over to hug her. She melted in his arms and said, "I missed you very much."

"I missed you, too." He stroked her head and delighted that the spiky tufts of hair were light to the touch.

"I like your new hair-do," he said. "Now, I'm more beautiful than you." She chuckled. He just has the ability to make her laugh.

They all went in together. Everyone eager to share their news, which was good since if the conversation were up to him, they'd hear nothing. In two hours, Bryce had been briefed on just about everything that has happened in his absence, except the financial side of things. Belle wasn't prepared to share her news. At any rate, after a few bookkeeping adjustments, it appeared there's still a hope and a future provided certain things happen in the interim.

Raf gave him a list of things that needed to be done urgently, "As in yesterday, mate." He read it and felt his heart drop to his belly. Billy and Belle noticed the slight change in him and exchanged quick psychic messages.

_He's troubled_.

_Sure is._

_What can we do?_

_Wait and see._

He has heard everything he needed to hear, now it was time to see for himself. He took his Akubra hat from its hook and turned to Belle, "Coming?"

Rajo piped up, "Can I come too?"

"No, you're staying with me," said Sue.

The boy crossed his arms on his chest, pouted and said, "Humph." Wolf looked at the boy and said, "That's no way to treat your Nanna. Have you ever seen me act like that toward her?"

The boy shook his head and said, "No..."

"Well, you know what to do, don't you?"

Rajo turned to his grandmother and said, "Sorry, Nanna. Can I go now?"

Sue said, "Of course you can but you can't have ice cream."

"What kind?"

"Mango."

He put his hand on his chin, thought about it and said, "Ice cream." Bryce laughed at the thought that his currency was but frozen delight.

"See you guys shortly." As they were leaving, they heard Rajo bargaining with Sue how many scoops he could have. Belle observed, "One day, Rajo will rule the world."

They drove around the paddock. In the week he was away, many things have been done. A large section of broken down fences have been re-erected. The dam was full of water and the garden was thriving.

They walked hand in hand. Bryce pointed out the length of land where he intend to plant a hundred Wollemi pine trees, "It was thought to have been extinct until a bush walker discovered it in the Blue Mountains, near Sydney 13 years ago. It's the ultimate survivor."

He braced her from the back and said, "I could lose it all tomorrow but not without giving it my all."

Changing the topic, he turned her around and said, "What do you say we continue our honeymoon and make love all week."

She smiled then she remembered something, "I'd love to... but there's a slight problem."

He raised an eye brow. She blushed, not sure how to say it, "Am waiting," he said.

She made a face, "Ah...I have my period."

He drew her close in a tender embrace and said, "We'll make love... we don't have to have sex to do it."

She sniffled, he dried her tears and said, "Well, look what I found. A weepy pixie."


	24. Morning Glory and Evening Afterglow

_Author's Note: The image for this story has been changed to show you what Morning Glory is, a phenomenon that occurs regularly in the Gulf Country of Australia, mostly around September to November. A Morning Glory cloud is a long, tubular cloud that can be up to 1000 kilometers long, one to two kilometers high, and can move at speeds up to 60 kilometers per hour; up to eight rolls in a row can sometimes occur. Please see it for yourself in youtube or research it on the Amazing Planet. It is my prayer that we all get to see it for real, at least once in our lifetime. It can occur elsewhere in the world but rarely.  
_

_For backstory: Jeff Hopoate was first mentioned in 'Full Metal Jacket.'_

**Morning Glory and Evening Afterglow**

"Wakey, wakey."

She half-opened her eyes to find a handsome devil peering down on her, she smiled. _Something's up_, normally he just went about his business and leaves her to get up when she's ready.

"Have you forgotten?" he asked.

Her brows knitted, "Forgotten what?"

"It's your birthday, you're legal age now." She laughed.

"I'm taking you up in the helo. Your birthday present is waiting for you. You have five minutes to get ready. Military time. Come on."

She showered, put on into a white shirt, pair of khaki shorts, her very own hiking boots; dried her pixie hair by shaking her head to rid it of excess water. The only feminine wile she retained was dabbing herself with perfume. "Ready," she said smiling as she presented herself for the day.

He checked his time, "Five minutes, good job Trooper Cameron."

she heard, "Happy birthday, Belle." The family were all sharing breakfast together.

"We probably won't see you all day, so you better cut your birthday cake now." Sue presented her with it. She laughed so hard when she saw the decorative icing on the cake courtesy of everyone's combined talent. There she was, or what was made to appear as her melted form, collapsed on the ground, head stuck in the ground, bum up, in the middle of the paddock.

When she was cutting the cake distributing the pieces, Bryce said, "Save the ass for me." Eight-year-old Rajo belly-laughed so hard they cracked up laughing, which made the boy laugh even more.

"You better hurry, you might miss it." It was Raf, head out of the window, weather watching.

"Let's go with them," urged Billy.

Raf put his foot down, "No, it's their time together. Alone. I've taken you up there countless times." Since Raf learned to fly the Bell Helicopter, he has taken her and Sue for a spot of Morning Cloud fly past.

Sue smiled, silently urging her son-in-law on, _Good on ya, mate_. Her youngest needed someone like Raf. Kind but not a push over. He has this sharp look that can put anyone in their place, even... surprisingly... Billy!

Rajo knew better than to ask, besides he's seen it many times. From the air. On land. He's much better off spending the day with Nanna, she's going to Malanda town.

They drove to the hanger where the helo was protected from wind gusts and intense outback heat. He made sure she was strapped in correctly and handed her the headset before starting the engine. Outside, and in, it would be deafening as the rotors spun for the lift.

Then they were close to Burketown, he pointed it out to her. She was open mouthed in wonderment. She heard him say over the head set, "Happy birthday, darling." Tears rolled down her eyes as she gazed out of the window to see long, tubular clouds; rows upon rows of them as dawn cracked over the horizon. The Gulf of Carpenteria below, blue water glistening for miles away, blue expanse of clear skies, juxtaposed against brown earth that stretches to forever; and then these tsunami of white clouds! Wow. It was mind blowing.

Bryce flew up them, down them so she could enjoy several vantage points but kept on eye on the instruments, specifically the fuel gauge. "Shall we go?" he asked finally.

She half heartedly said "Yes" but if she could she would have stayed until all the clouds dispersed away.

He continued to fly and landed the Bell on a patch of green, open grass. A man came out to meet them, she recognised him. It was the same man who met her at Brisbane International Airport the first time around.

The men hugged before Bryce introduced her, "Hey, welcome to the family."

Jeff Hopoate led the way inside. There was nothing feminine in the house. In one corner, a vintage pac man machine was blinking away, in the opposite corner race car arcade machine. In the middle of the room, a billiard table. At the far end, a bar. At the other end, a dart board. Thankfully, the wall behind the board wasn't pockmarked.

Bryce put an arm around her, "This is boys' central."

Jeff was SAS, little surprise there and still on active duty.

She looked at a framed photo of three little girls. "They're my daughters," he said.

"To three different mothers," added Bryce.

Jeff laughed and jokingly said, "Not my fault I couldn't find someone like your sheila. They marry me then dump me a year later. They just wanted my sperm. Fuck me, they could have just given me a bottle, I'd have been happy to supply it."

"Do you see them much?" she asked.

"When I'm on furlough, they're always my first port of call. The middle one is Kayla, she has a new Daddy she said. So I told her she only has one and that's me. When I brought her home, I asked to see the mother's boyfriend, told him in a way that could not be misunderstood that he either finds another man's daughter or make his own." Bryce cackled. '_The way that could not be misunderstood_' otherwise known as scrambled eggs; grip the balls and squeeze until the owner jogs in place.

When he stopped laughing, Bryce asked in mocked concern, "Is his tackle alright?" Jeff smiled evilly.

"Good to catch up with you. I'm taking Belle to the City, can I borrow your car?"

"Sure," Jeff tossed him a set of keys. "It's the BMW. I'm going back to bed. Show yourself out." A silver BMW was parked on the driveway. He clicked the key fob, it responded.

"Where are we going?"

"Cairns, it's been awhile since you've seen civilisation." He's so full of surprises. Here she was dressed for the bush and now he's taking her to the main drag of Northern Queensland.

Before she knew it they were at the Hilton. She wanted to protest. Her brain was whirring, _Can we afford it?_ She tried to remember how much money was in the bank. She was sure there was some money in their account but definitely not enough to pay for a night, heck not even for half a day.

She pulled him to a corner and whispered, "Darling, I love you very much, I appreciate what you're doing but we can't afford this."

He cupped her gamin face and said, "I got paid from my last assignment."

She held his arms tightly, knuckles so tight against his bicep that he looked down on them. "It's true, isn't it? You're doing it for the money, for us. You can give it back to them, I don't want it. Just tell them not to call you ever again."

"Pixie, it's not that simple. Let's check in and then we'll talk, ok."

They got a room on the executive floor. It was beautifully furnished and the views of the esplanade from the balcony was delicious but she was unable to enjoy it. He hugged her from behind; but even wrapped in his arms in a scenic location, she couldn't kick her anxiety.

"Come inside."

He laid on the floor, his hands behind his back, "Talk to me."

She laid next to him and said, "I don't want you to go again. Not to places unknown and where we don't hear from you for days on end."

"I know it's tough. There's a high divorce rate in the SAS but I'm not with them anymore. I'm with the secret service on an ad hoc basis. They call me only when they need me. I decided I want to be around more for Rajo's sake and you. But soldering is what I do best. On balance, it's best of both world. I had job offers from Interpol and other outfits but they were full-time gigs that require a lot of overseas travel, it would take more time away from family."

He looked at her, "I told you all about this beforehand..."

She nodded, "I just didn't know how bad it would be. Tell me, honestly, when they call you, is it because they can't find someone available to do the job or because no one wants to do it?"

He sighed, "Honestly... it's a little of both."

She cried and smacked the floor. He took her hand in his and said, "You wanted an honest answer."

"Is it the money?"

"Hell no. They couldn't pay me enough to do what I do."

"So why do it?"

"Because I'm me. At the end of the day, I'm not just a husband and a father. Not just a farmer. I'm also a soldier. I don't know how to explain it any other way. If I stop doing this altogether, I would become a different man to the one you know." She can't imagine living with someone else than the man she has now.

She smiled, draped herself on him and said, "Let's have a romp."

He smiled and said, "I thought you'd never ask."

The love making was immensely satisfying. When their intertwined naked bodies were spent, she asked him, "How do you... Ah, what do you do with your..."

"You mean, what do I do with my sexual urges in the field?"

"Yeah, that."

He laughed, "Believe me, when you're being shot at, the last thing on your mind is having a shag. And besides when I go on ops, I'm with a bloke or a bunch of blokes, trust me, I'm not that way inclined... at all!"

"I know that but a man needs sex, right."

"Umm. Sex is a funny thing. When you don't have it, you don't miss it. But once you have it you want it all the time. But sex with whores never appealed to me. Loads of lads in the SAS have contracted all sorts of diseases, there are guys who'd shag anything."

Remembering an incident, he said, "There was a guy in our unit who was so horny he shagged one of the wives of the tribe's chieftain in the Congo. He could have got us all bloody killed so one night while he was sleeping, we pounced on him and slagged him. Put him in a strait jacket. He woke up with a hard on as usual. He couldn't get a release any which way. He was in agony and were laughing our heads off. He was squirming on the ground like a centipede on steroid." She found herself laughing with him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

"Let's call for room service."

"What's would you like?" she asked.

"Your pick, it's your birthday." She perused the menu, called room service and asked for a bottle of red, along with steak for the man, salmon for her and yummy desserts.

He went to his wallet, took out an envelope and gave it to her. Inside it was cash, "Get yourself something for the evening. I like something slinky."

She counted the money, "Why are doing this?"

He grinned, "Shouldn't you be saying 'thank you' instead?"

"You know what I mean. Ok, aren't you coming with me?"

"Nope, surprise me."

The phone rang, she automatically stiffened. He laughed, "It's the room's phone. Answer it, it's for you."

She looked at him quizzically, picked up the phone and said, "Hello?"

A young heavily accented voice said, "May I speak with Mrs Belle Cameron?"

"This is she."

"We just want to remind you of your 3pm beauty and spa treatment. Do you know where to find us?"

"I have an appointment?" She looked at Bryce who was staring at the ceiling.

"Yes, Ma'am. We're located on the third floor."

"Thanks, I'll see you in a couple of hours."

She hanged up, jumped her husband, "Thanks, you're so awesome."

He smirked and said, "It's not free you know. You've gotta pay with your body."

"Anytime."

They were about to make out when room service arrived. "Bugger" she said. He laughed.

For the evening, she picked a slinky, as requested, low-necked off white maxi from a boutique near the hotel. A sheer shawl the only accessory. She bought a pair of white strapped sandals with some rhinestones to matched the dress. She could use it again, even in the farm, just by removing the stone features. He was simply dressed in the short-sleeved Black generic Tee he purchased in Singapore, denim trousers and military sand-coloured boots.

It didn't take her long to prepare, when she came out in the slinky outfit, his hands roamed over her body. "Commando, eh?" he winked. She playfully slapped him.

They arrived at a restaurant not far from the pier, got a table close to the wall. The restaurant was crowded, noisy with merriment and chatter; cutleries and glasses clinking together.

After a sumptuous meal, he took out his harmonica from his back pocket. Rested his body on the back of the chair, raised his left foot on an empty chair next to him, blew a note on the musical instrument. Everyone paused and turned to them, then he played 'The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face'. She cried. And was embarrassed by the attention.

An old couple seated not far from them tearfully listened to him play, then the old man, a crooner in his youth, sang to his wife of 45 years, the second and third verses.

_The first time ever I kissed your mouth _

_And felt your heart beat close to mine _

_Like the trembling heart of a captive bird _

_That was there at my command, my love _

_That was there at my command _

_And the first time ever I lay with you _

_I felt your heart so close to mine _

_And I knew our joy would fill the earth _

_And last till the end of time my love _

At the end of it, there wasn't a dry eye in the restaurant. The accidental audience clapped, he stood up, put his harmonica away, clasped his hands behind his back and took a bow.

The old man turned to her, and thinking they were still courting said, "Say yes already." The old woman said, "He's a keeper, that one."


	25. Hurt

_Author's Note: KDJ, this is for you. _

**_Oh, tissue alert._**

**Hurt**

They've been married for nearly three months, although the wedding extravaganza was yet to come for several months. Christmas though was just round the corner.

The onslaught of summer heat was unrelenting. The place seemed to be permanently encased in a heat haze during the day; at night, the only respite was the air-conditioning, without it, she would be unable to survive it. She's never known heat intensity like it. Draining, withering, blistering, unforgiving. Though she was mostly indoors, she has a permanent blush on her cheeks, such was the heat. There was a week when temperature was a consistent 40C (104F) during the day, with humidity of around 60%. The Aussies call it "scorcher".

They were up early. She turned on the television to check the weather forecast, she blew out a desperate sigh of frustration, "another scorcher". At least the forecaster said there was a chance of rain. December, the start of the monsoon season in the Gulf Savannah.

Bryce proceeded to open all the windows and doors for cross ventilation. Strategically placed shade awnings deflected the direct assault from the sun. Even at 05:00 hours, she could already feel the forthcoming heat wave.

Days ago, she has completed data-entering the receipts and invoices, incomes and expenses over the last five years into _MYOB_. It was time to sit down with her dearly beloved to discuss it and to talk about some financial discoveries she's made. But every time she raised the subject he was busy. "We've got to talk about this now," she said for the nth time.

He nodded to appease her, "We will but I've got things to do in the barn and I wanna do them before it gets too hot. When I get back for tea we'll talk about it."

"Promise."

"Promise." He kissed her lightly on the lips. "I'll try to join you for lunch." With him gone, the isolation suddenly hit her. It's the downside of outback life. Then, she wondered what exactly was keeping him busy in the barn.

Bryce opened the double door, he could have completed half his circuit by now if not for Pixie hounding him for the "talk". It was entirely his fault anyway, he should have discussed it with her last night, or the night before or the night before that. She has the patience of a saint.

Although running an hour late, he still did it by force of habit. He stretched his limbs then followed this up 80 full body pushups, 100 standard military situps and 12 pullups (proper hang and chin standard).

Every muscle fiber on an elite soldier is there for a reason and for a certain functionality, they aim for balance. An ex-con with too much time in his hands and too little to do would pump iron at the prison gym for hours so ends up looking top heavy; strong arm muscles, torso and back but weak leg muscles.

A Special Forces fighting man aims for overall fitness. After the standard pushups,situps and pullups, Bryce set about doing his weights training. Distributing activities between endurance and strength training because each type of exercise develop specialised physiology and biochemistry. Too much bulk and under-developed aerobic capacity can slow down an individual which meant a soldier could fail a demanding endurance activity like long pack march, a certain death sentence when tabbing in hostile terrain. Too little upper-body muscle and strength would limit one's ability to cope with rope, climb, swim and or haul heavy packs and equipment.

For upper body strength, and strong, toned back muscles; especially the lats (latissimus), the shoulder (deltoid) muscles, and the traps (trapezius) across the top of the shoulders; he performed a circuit around a trusty machine. The killer circuit involved bench press, cable row, lat pull down, bicep curls, tricep cable push downs, overhead extensions and dips. And barbells thrown in just for fun.

For lower body work, he ran on a treadmill, alternating between hill running and fast intervals, followed by squats and deadlift workout to maintain strength in the core and lower-back.

Two hours of his morning, every day, was spent on grueling workouts. Only after he has completed this exercise regime would he go to work, which mostly entailed lifting, digging, hauling, and this week planting trees. His dream was to have 100 Wollemi pine trees on the property but that would have to wait. First he has to plant other drought-resistant trees native to Australia to give his future Wollemi pines protective shade canopy.

Rajo was still asleep, Raf and Billy were away to celebrate their first year together and Sue was in Cape York. The seasonal farm hands, the backpackers, have all left weeks ago. The next round of intakes won't be for months away. She stoically shrugged her shoulder and turned on the radio to an FM music station. Noise companion she called it.

It was the perfect time to answer some emails and to attend to other business matters. On the correspondence, she signed herself as Belle Gallagher-Cameron, CFO. She smiled at her cheekiness.

Then she checked her personal email account, in her personal in box, there was a message from a contact from her previous life asking if she was keen to work as a forensic accountant again. It was an attractive proposal. He said she didn't have to leave home, everything she needed would be sent to her in any format she wanted. And the pay was very, very attractive. She replied, "I'll give you a definite answer after the new year", that was that. She'd soon forget about it.

Around 09:00 hours, Rajo came out of his bedroom, bright and bushy tailed. Tall for his age, handsome, funny, witty and a little too macho for her liking. She made him breakfast, and asked what he has planned for the day. "Reading and math."

"Which one do you want to do first?"

"Read." She nodded, "I'll read my book while you read yours."

She fixed herself morning tea, marmalade on toast and brewed ground coffee. Breakfast with her husband had been hours ago. The second she sat down, Rajo continued their conversation, "Ma-Belle, I'm bored. Can I go to a proper school now?"

She moved stray hairs from the boy's forehead, "But that would mean boarding far away from home, honey. You think you can handle that?"

"Of course. I'm a tough guy. Like my Daddy. I'm like him." She smiled. There was so much truth to it, while they may not be biologically linked Bryce's influence on little Rajo was indelible. The boy has his father's mannerisms down to a fine art. He emulated everything he did which was great on the one hand but a worry on another. The mini Tarzan has no fear.

"I'll discuss it with your Dad, ok?"

He looked at her hopefully so she added, "Don't raise your hopes too high..."

Much of their morning was spent reading reclined on their hammocks, sitting width wise. An hour later, Rajo emerged from his room, "Ma-Belle, I'm ready."

She closed her book and padded out to the dining room where Rajo settled himself in front of his notebook to work on his math. She was only there to supervise, the boy was self-motivated, another trait he has absorbed from his Dad by osmosis.

Another hour, Rajo was done. And now he was well and truly bored.

"Let's play chess," she offered.

"That's too boring," he complained. "I want to be outside."

"It's too hot honey, I'm sorry. Help me make lunch instead. Dad said he might join us." That was all it took to get him interested with cooking.

"Do you know how to use the potato peeler?"

The boy grinned, "Of course, I'm a big boy now. Do you know I'll be nine soon?"

"Really? When?"

"At the end of the year."

"December 31, huh."

"Yup, and there will be fire works!"

She ruffled his hair, gave him the potato peeler and a dozen potatoes from the farm. She boiled eggs for the caesar salad and turned her attention to chopping lettuce. "What do you think we should do with the meat?"

"What kind?"

"Lamb chops."

"Grill it," he said.

"Grilling," she said.

If a year ago, a fortune teller told her that one day she would have an African son she wouldn't have believed her. But here she was totally enamoured with the boy.

Much to their disappointment, Bryce couldn't join them for lunch. They called him but he said he was in the middle of shifting hay from barn to the back of the Ute but he would be home soonish.

After lunch, Rajo retired to his room to read some more. Sue gave him a full set of Roald Dahl's books which he has read from cover to cover, end to end and back again to the first book on the series. She went back to sorting out the farm's account. Balancing the cheque book. Bryce income from his last assignment was close to depleted, there has been far too much investment being poured into the farm. However, she wasn't worried as much now. She knew just where the problem was and how to fix it. It was just a matter of getting that man of hers to sit down long enough to listen.

Suddenly, she heard noises outside, a motor engine whined. She rushed out to find that Rajo has crept out of the house and started his age appropriate all-vehicle terrain buggy. "Rajo, what are you doing? come back here."

He smiled at her, engaged the throttle of the single cylinder 110cc air cooled 4 strokes engine and hooned away. The child was adept at it. But today of all days, he flipped his ATV and it landed on him crushing his right tibia. She screamed in horror. She rushed to him. His eyes were bulging in pain and his breathing was strained.

She rushed back to the house to call Bryce. He saw her image on the phone, and answered in an abrupt manner, "I said I'll be home soon."

Her breathing was sharp and short, and her voice was shaky, "Darling, it's Rajo, he's had an accident. Please come home."

"What happened?"

"He's crushed under his ATV, I'm sorry," she was hysterical.

"I'm coming," he said. He closed down the phone, grabbed a medi-pack he kept in the barn in the event of a work-related accident. He accelerated out of the barn so fast the Ute strained to the weight of hay on its back.

He was there in less than five minutes but for Belle it felt like a life-time. She was crouched next him, patting his face with wet towel. He bodily lifted her by the shoulders and said, "Go." She was in a state of shock and didn't hear him, she just kept repeating, "Help him, help him."

"I will, now move, go and don't come out."

He lifted the ATV off Rajo, checked his vitals. She turned to look at them and saw the boy's tibia poking out of his skin, broken and twisted at an angle. She clasped her mouth and out came a silenced scream. Bryce got up, and gave her a push, "Go and don't come out."

Rajo's vitals were fine. To check for other injuries, he asked him if he could wiggle his toes and fingers. He did. It made him smile which made Rajo smile back bravely. He would have to perform field medicine, stroking the boy's forehead with the wet towel, he leaned on the boy and said, "Son, this will hurt but I need you to be brave, ok?"

He has to control the bleeding. He rushed into the house to wash his hands then emptied a bottle of alcohol on them. Then took an ice pack from the freezer before rushing out again. Returning to Rajo, he opened his medi-pack; using cotton and sterile water he started cleansing around the wound. Touching the area around the wound sent jolts of pain to the child's nerve endings, even with his bravery, he called out to Belle screaming an elongated, nerve jangling high pitched, "Maaaa, Maaa."

Belle covered her ears in fright, her son needed him and she was a wimp. She agonised about it, the screaming continued on so she came out of the house drenched in tears. Bryce looked up and said, "Back in the house, you don't need to see this."

After cleaning the wound, Bryce proceeded to dress the wound as carefully as he could, but the child was in excruciating pain. Just way beyond his pain threshold. She heard him crying and hiccuping, it made her curl her toes. Minutes later, he was quiet.

She came out to see what was happening. Bryce was rigging up a make shift stretcher so he could load him in the helo, it would be quicker to fly him to his mate Jeff's house and be met by the ambulance there than to wait for an air ambulance to come to them. He called the emergency hotline and explained what happened and what he was doing.

Kneeling on his haunches, he explained to Rajo what he was going to do next, "I'm going to move you, it will hurt but it's gonna be ok."

Seeing her there, Rajo tried his best not to cry but to no avail. A open fracture was one hell of an injury for an adult, let alone a child. Belle paled, blood draining out of her. Bryce worried that she might faint, "Pixie, sit. Please sit." She sat.

Once the child was on the stretcher, she asked Belle to help move Rajo to the helicopter. He got her to carry the front so she didn't have to see the child in his current state. He took the rear. He held the child's gaze to reassure him it was going to be ok.

In the air, Bryce handed the phone to Belle, "Call emergency services, tell them we're 10 minutes to LZ."

"LZ?"

"Landing zone." He shook his head, he was back in the war zone.

A week later, Rajo was home, hooning around the house in his motorised wheelchair. She was very tempted to padlock the wheels.

Lying next to Bryce one night, she rested her head next to his chest and sought comfort in his strength.


	26. What's the Colour of Laughter?

_Smile alert! _

**What's the Colour of Laughter?**

It's a week before Christmas, and Belle was still unable to pin down the ever elusive Bryce Mabo Cameron for a chat. The man was trained in the art of evasion and escape by one of the toughest Special Forces regiment in the world. Also, trained in resisting interrogation.

So, the genius that was Belle Gallagher-Cameron used a different tactic, one that not even the toughest SF could resist. Pillow talk.

She also used an indirect approach, nothing to trigger the alarm bells in Bryce's head. The last thing she wanted was for him to bail. She knew that a bolting horse was harder to recapture.

First in her arsenal was a two-piece lacy pale pink baby doll nighties.

Second, a dab of her favourite scent, Channel No. 5.

Third, aromatic candles.

_Game on._

He was still in the shower so was unaware what was waiting for him. When he came out, she was oiling herself. The aroma of coconut triggered a flood of the happy hormones, Oxytocin, in his system.

"Need help with that?" he asked.

"Will you oil my back?" she asked impishly. How could he refuse? Bryce Mabo Cameron was undone. So while he oiled her back she brought up the subject of the farm's finances, starting first with the very good news. "Guess what darling, I found $50,000."

"Come again," he said. _Now I've got your attention_.

"When your Dad passed away and you were all away from home, Mum didn't know a lot about running the day to day operation of the farm. So there were a number of invoiced deliveries for cattle and stocks sold that weren't collected. So there was no income. The $50,000 was for cattle sold in 2009. I wrote to them explaining why the collection was nearly five years late, they paid us. The money arrived in our account yesterday."

Kneading her neck and shoulders, he said, "That's interesting."

"U hum. One start-up farm is struggling so we came to a payment arrangement. But it's only a small amount so that's ok. The other one, surprisingly your richest client, is the hardest to talk to. Always denying they received the delivery last year. I'm still trying persuasion but if I can't get them to pay, you've got to do something about it. The bill is close to $120,000."

"That's very interesting," he said. But he was now down to her waist so she wasn't certain what he was referring to when he said it. For now, she would simply assume he was listening.

"Then, there's our neighbours..."

He stopped kneading. "No, not them..."

She turned over, startled, "What do you mean?"

"They're hard up..."

"And we're not?"

"It's different. Two years ago, they lost their daughter and last year the father had a stroke. The jungle telegraph is buzzing with news that they're about to lose their property to the bank. Not them," he protested. She often wondered where the chink in his armour was, it turned out the tough killing machine was a soft touch. She smiled.

"I spoke to him on the phone yesterday, he wants to see you." He groaned.

"It's ok, darling. He just needs help he said. And you can help him. He wants us to see him tomorrow. Promise, it's not about the money."

"Ok, we'll go see them tomorrow," he sounded relieved. "Are we done with the business talk?"

"For now, why?"

He smiled in that cheeky way, "I want my fingers to do the talking now," he said. He was so corny she laughed out loud.

His hands has traveled to her bottom now. Then the back of her thigh, then her lower legs, then her feet. That's when she lost the plot. She turned around, curled her toes and said with great effort not to let out a scream, "Stop."

He clamped her mouth and said, "Sssh..."

His hands traveled back up her legs. He raised an eyebrow and said, "What do you want me to do now?" She guided his hand where she wanted it and ended up squirming all over the place, it was just insane. They were laughing so hard but unable to let it out, not without causing a scandal. He was such an unselfish lover. When he finally entered her she experienced a crescendo of nerve tingling happiness.

Sated, they laid side by side on the hammock width wise, their legs dangled down the side, through the open windows their eyes cast toward the darkened sky dusted with stars. He turned to look at her, played with her earlobe, "Happy?"

"Very."

She kissed his lips and murmured, "Have you ever heard of 50 Shades of Gray?"

"U hum and it's hogwash." Stroking her face, he said, "There's nothing sexy about bruised mind. Battered soul. Welted skin. Cracked ribs. Split lips. Chipped tooth or smeared make up. Most people don't know what damage a man can do without even trying. And the thing about violence is you need to commit more and more of it to get the same level of high."

She kissed him again, whispered, "I think what we have is sexy."

He kissed her back, "So tell me Pixie, what's the colour of laughter?"

She thought about it and said, "White."

"Why white?"

"Umm.. because white is the presence of all colours. It is red and blue and green and yellow and orange..."

He followed up her list with, "Purple and mauve and turquoise and pink and brown and sandy."

She looked deeply in his bluey-green eyes and said, "_You_ _are_ the colour of laughter."

"Thank you, Mrs Cameron."


	27. Fifteen Days in December

**Fifteen Days in December**

The man next to her moved stealthily, that's what made her open her eyes. If he had just acted normally, she would have had no need to be curious. "Wh," was all she managed to let out. Quick as a flash, his hand was clasped over her mouth. "Sssh. Don't move."

He landed on the floor softly, like a panther walking on the underbrush of a dense forest. He crouched down, in the darkness and only by feel he removed a slat of floorboard, retrieved what looked to her like a loaded gun, not that she knew for sure. He half cocked it. He eyed her, put a finger up and mouthed, "Don't move."

He crossed the room silently. She wondered whether he was sleep walking or having a nightmare or losing the plot entirely. He pressed his back against the wall, opened the bedroom door just a centimeter. He appeared convinced someone was in the house, but she honestly didn't hear a thing. It happened quickly, like a blur, he was out of the room to confront the "intruder" then she heard an irritated, "Fuck me."

_Goodness me, someone's really in the house. _

She tensed. She heard conversation in the living room, then the light came on. _No gun shot! _ _That can only be good_. She supposed it was safe to see for herself what was going on. She let herself out on tip-toe. Someone who sounded a lot like Bryce said, "Fuck me, I don't need to see that, mate."

Bryce was standing next to the bedroom naked, his manhood only covered from view by his gun which he has double clasped in his hand. She peered from behind Bryce. Banjo smiled when her head popped out from behind her husband. He cheekily said, "Didn't know you're into underage girls, Bro." She gasped. Her eyes widened.

Bryce groaned and said, "Just for that I ought to shoot you." Then he made the introduction, "My brother Banjo. My wife Belle." That was the extent of it.

She couldn't believe her eyes. There's a shirtless man with a tattoo of a bird in full flight on his upper left chest, standing in their living room. A taller, younger, hipper version of her husband. _Same bluey-green eyes and even the same voice_. _A clone for sure_. It was disconcerting. She smiled at him, he winked at her. _Definitely a player_, she concluded.

Bryce went in their room to put a pair of pants on, when he came out, he reprimanded the younger man, "You could have called to say you're coming you fuck wit, I could have mistaken you for a bandit." The younger man just grinned, it seemed he was used to being scolded.

Sue came out of the bedroom, rubbing sleep from her eyes, she paused and considered the visitor, "Banjo!" He scooped her up in his arms, squeeze her tight, kiss her on both cheeks and said, "Love you, Mum."

Then another voice was calling out, "Hey, ass face!"

"Billy!" She wrapped her legs around her youngest brother as he scooped her up. Raf came over to fist bumped with brother-in-law. "What time is it?" he asked sleepily.

They all glanced at the wall clock, 03:00 hours. "You really have impeccable timing," said Raf.

Over the course of three successive days, more brothers returned home for Chrissie, which she learned was Aussie slang for Christmas. Benjamin and Bernard arrived together since they were both based in the U.S. Barry came 24 hours later. Cameron Central was packed to the rafter, the men camped in the living room in sleeping bags.

Belle amused herself by closely observing the brothers. The eldest was the shortest at 5'10; the youngest the tallest at 6'2. Sue jokingly said it must have been the quality of the milk she was drinking at that time. But with good humour, Ben said that the size of their brain was in inverse proportion to their height, making him the most intelligent of the mob; and her husband, Bryce, the most average since he was the middle son.

Benjamin, Barry and Bernard all had brown eyes like Sue's. She thought it funny that the siblings were split down the middle in terms of their eye colouring.

The men were very different from each other but also very similar in some ways. They all like to be barefoot, all prefer to be topless, all physically fit and sporty, and all have a wicked sense of humour. But their temperaments were very different. Benjamin was quiet, the perfect spook disguised as diplomat. Barry was articulate but soft-spoken, just the sort of doctor you want to attend to you with his perfect bedside manner.. Navy clearance diver Bernard was friendly and out-going, the quintessential surfer dude. Banjo was boyishly cocky, the male version of Billy.

Since the boys came together, the house was fueled by testosterone. Everything they did, from the most mundane to a game of cricket, was a competition. She came into the kitchen one morning to find six grown men (Raf being the sixth) competing over who could dice the most tomatoes. On the kitchen table were all sort of knives. Chef knife, dive knife, gutting knife, filleting knife, commando K-bar knife, and hunting knife. When they couldn't agree who won, they had a tomato fight. The kitchen was covered in sluicy juice from floor to ceiling.

One day, they competed over who could peel the most potatoes in five minutes. Sue was crimson in anger when she found close to 20 kilos of the tuber turning brown with oxidation in the kitchen. That night, as punishment, she fed them potato soup, potato salad, potato chips, baked potatoes, grilled potatoes and nothing else. And to inflict more pain, she made sure the Cameron women and Rajo enjoyed a three-course meal. The men were only allowed to look in envy.

Then there's Rajo. They signed his plaster cast, patted him on the head and congratulated him for being brave, strong and fantastic. Like nearly killing himself with his ATV was the best thing ever. She collared Bryce about it but he simply said, "Boys will be boys." It was all made worse by his mostly absentee uncles competing over who could spoil him the most. The fact that he was in a wheelchair, in a plaster cast, didn't dampen the mood to find some death-defying activities they could do together.

Thankfully, it wasn't all riotous fun and chaos. They made themselves useful in the farm. They all went away at 04:00, although she suspected they were doing something other than working in the paddock. She was certain even the cows were still asleep at that awful time in the morning.

She wasn't sure what the others did to help Bryce but she was pleased that Banjo serviced the Bell helicopter for them. No doubt, the flying machine was grateful to be overhauled, oiled and pampered.

When the raging excitement died down a little, she cornered Bryce to remind him that their neighbours were still waiting for help. It's time they saw them. "Please" she said. "We were meant to see them five days ago, I'm running out of excuses."

"Ok, let's go," he said. They jumped in the Ute and drove a good two hours to their next door neighbour. In Woop Woop, next door shouldn't be taken literally for it could actually mean miles and miles away. She learned 'Woop Woop' was slang for a small unimportant town in the middle of nowhere.

They arrived at a property that appeared deserted, decrepit and forsaken. Bryce beeped. A little old lady waddled out to greet them, "Is that you, Bryce?" she called out.

"It's me. How are you, Tess?"

"I'm good. And this is your wife?"

"Yes. Belle, this is Tess."

"It's good to put a face to a name. You're beautiful, my dear, " she said as she patted Belle's hand. "Come in. Jono 's been waiting to see you."

They went in to see his Dad's best friend and former Army buddy. Jono was once a strapping man but the years had been unkind to him. After suffering a stroke, his left side was paralysed and things went pear-shaped rapidly from there on. He spoke with great difficulty, "Bryce, how are you?" he said, saliva drooling to one side of his mouth as he made the herculean effort.

"I'm good," he replied, barely able to contain his sadness over the old couple's state of affairs presently. "How can I help you?"

Tess came to join them bearing tea cups and a pot of hot tea, "We want you to take everything from our barn," she said.

Bryce sprang to his feet and said, "No, I can't do that."

The old woman gripped his hand strongly, "Sit down." He perched on the edge of his seat. "You'll be doing us a favour. When the bank takes possession, we don't want them to have anything of ours. We owed you money, it would only be right that we pay you back."

"No," he protested. "Let me find you a buyer instead."

Jono shook his head vigorously, "No," he said. "For you," he insisted.

He turned to his wife of 55 years, "Show." She understood him completely, she turned to Bryce, "He wants me to show what's in the barn."

"I'll stay with him," Belle offered.

The barn was full to the rafter with hay, fertiliser and even a old soil digger. He smiled, "Does this still work?"

"Oh yeah, it does. They don't make them like they used to. Now Bryce, my husband has a lot of pride still in him, he wants to pay your Dad back. We owed so much to him, that debt has now passed on to you. We have no need for any of these. I don't want him to have to worry about it any more. Our son's coming in a couple of days, we're going to move in with his family. Please Bryce."

"Are you sure you'd rather not sell them, you could use the money."

She smiled, "Thanks but no... we have all we need. We'd be grateful if you take them. And our two horses." She whistled using two fingers. A black gelding and a chestnut mare came galloping over from nowhere. "These are Lima and Romeo. Been with us five years, we adopted them when they were just foals."

"Come," she urged, hooking her hand around his arm. They went inside a make shift stable, it hasn't been cleaned for a long time judging from the level of filth inside. They have been struggling to look after their horses. She showed them the saddles, "Please look after them for me," her eyes teared up.

You can count on it," he said.

"When can you come to get them off our hands?"

"Tomorrow, the mob's home, they can help clear everything out. It'll also be good for them to see you both again."

When they went back to the house, Tess joyously told Jono that he has no need to worry anymore, "All that rubbish would be taken care of. Bryce will make sure of it."

The next day, the Cameron mob cleared the barn. Sue brought over food to enjoy a meal with Jono and Tess. Banjo and Billy rode the horses home at the end of the day. They all went back the day after to farewell them.

Christmas came. Belle found out that the Camerons has no gift-giving tradition, "Not into that commercial stuff," said Barry. Instead their family tradition was made up of music, sports, barbie (not the plastic doll, but the culinary art of Bar-B-Q), beer guzzling and giving each other non-stop, unrelenting ribbing (which they called 'taking the piss').

It was a fine day until the men decided it was time to play a game of footy. Their choice of game wasn't for the faint-hearted. It was called rugby, which was essentially gridiron without helmet and padding. It was barbaric, brutal and in her mind, downright suicidal. There were three man on each opposing side, Billy played referee.

Mid-game, it bucketed down with rain but the game went on. No one was giving any quarters so bloodied and muddied, they wrestled, tackled, and beat each other up for...she shook her head in disbelief, a Pineapple, the winner's trophy.

On the last day of December, they celebrated Rajo's ninth birthday in style, capped with a pyrotechnic display at midnight. When they retired for the night. Belle laid awake for some time thinking how much her life has changed. She turned to look at his sleeping form, _All because I met you._


	28. In All Seriousness

_Author's Note: For forward story: you can read about Billy and Belle's pregnancy in the story 'September Child"._

**In All Seriousness**

Second of January, Sue and Billy were feeling it, the ennui, the anxiety of separation. They were quieter, she could see the longing and the fear in their eyes, even the boys were subdued. The brief reunion would soon come to an end. In preparation for their return to work, the boys were checking their emails regularly which they didn't do the first two weeks. Banjo and Bernard even called HQ. She could see they were mentally switching on and emotionally switching off.

From where she was standing in the living room, she saw Banjo sitting on the rails of the veranda, nursing a bottle of cold beer. His sights were far away. She came out, he stood to his feet and gave her the briefest of nod, "Hi," he said.

She sat on the old rocking chair, and they engaged in a conversation. "It's going to be very quiet when you guys leave."

He smiled, "You probably didn't know what hit you."

"You're not wrong there. I was an only child and an orphan at 18 so yeah I didn't know what hit me. You guys are a force of nature." She paused, then asked, "What bird is that on your chest?"

He caressed the tattoo, "It's the Black Kite, a medium-size bird of prey, a raptor native to Australia and other parts of Asia and South Pacific. It's actually brown in colouring, not black. I suppose like me it's mislabeled."

He demonstrated the raptor's aerial prowess with his hands, describing it thus, "Black kites glide and soar on thermals as they search for food. It glides with ease, changes directions easily."

"Let me guess it's your nickname."

"My aviator call sign actually." He changed the topic, "So how are you enjoying Cameron Country so far?"

"It's good, I'm enjoying it... but long-term? The jury is still out. You know, the long stretches of nothingness and isolation. Rajo wants to go to a boarding school this coming school year, without him here I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

He considered her, "Don't know how Bryce managed to convince you to marry him. I couldn't believe my eyes when I read his email, it just said, 'Just got married. Come meet the wife'. I remember thinking '_What the fuck?_' He didn't even attach a photo, so I called Mum and she confirmed it."

He laughed as he related what they all thought, "We thought you must be someone no one wanted or you wouldn't want to hide in the bush. Mum said, 'No', you were pretty." He looked at her intently, "Mum likes you very much."

She looked down embarrassed, "I think she's just grateful at least one of you is married."

He ruffled his hair, "I'm married you know..." She looked surprised.

"... to my job. Not a lot of women would marry a bloke like me. I find myself a girlfriend, in the beginning they all say 'Yeah, it's ok, I understand.' Three months down the track, after a few canceled dates and unscheduled flights, they get all clinging and whiny. I don't get it. I came close to getting married once but Banda Aceh got in the way of that."

_Banda Aceh_, she's heard it before. He glanced at her, "Indonesia, that huge Asian tsunami," he offered.

"Of course," she said, "You were deployed there?"

"I flew all over Banda delivering relief goods and moving the badly injured. Most traumatic, but also the most fulfilling assignment I ever had. I was there for six months and that was the end of that relationship. I might have to wait another 10 years to find someone genuine. Shit, I'd be an old bloke."

"I'm pretty sure you'll find someone," she said encouragingly.

He smiled thoughtfully, "Yeah if Bryce can find a wife, I have a chance. I'm better looking than him."

They both laugh. At this point, Ben and Bryce cantered past them on horseback. They waved, she waved back. Banjo raised the bottle.

The young Cameron murmured, "I bet it's an informal debrief. The spook and the operative." Then he hummed the theme from _Mission Impossible_.

"Why do you call him spook?"

"He's Australia's military attache in D.C. He knows more than he's letting on." Banjo winked.

Nearing the edge of the property, Ben said, "Heard you were busy."

Bryce smiled, "You guys hear too much."

The eldest Cameron said, "Well done, Bryce. I can't tell you specific details but I can tell you some of the outcomes of your mission. You saved at least 20 people, all peace-loving Muslim clergies in the States and Canada. Two fall guys were freed from 'Gitmo and five conspirators were arrested. The U.S. was able to trace where and how $120 million of aid money was siphoned to purchase arms and ammunition for the insurgents. Early days yet, the fall-out would have huge repercussions."

"Good to know," Bryce replied.

Ben gave him a sideways glance,"You'll keep doing this? It's risky business."

"That it is."

"Adrenalin junkie," Ben said accusingly.

In reply, Bryce said, "Race you to the homestead." With that the boys commanded their horses to give it their all.

Barry kept in touch with hospital staff via Skype, a young US Marine was casevac'd to the hospital yesterday adding to an already long list of casualties. A stunning blue-eyed, blonde-haired German Doctor was briefing him on the case, Rajo was observing quietly. The little boy beamed a megawatt smile when close to the end of the video stream, she said, "I love you" to Uncle Barry.

Barry just said, "Me, too" as he playfully thumped Rajo's head for being silly.

Bernard, Raf and Billy prepared to kayak Gregory river much to Sue's consternation. "It's the monsoon season, the weather can change quickly, not a good idea," she said. Bernard hugged her, "Stop worrying, it'll cause premature wrinkling." Much to her relief, the trio were back after only an hour, they observed that the sky was darkening ominously.

The boys were due to leave on the 5th of January, on the 3rd Belle had an inkling she was pregnant but there was no way to be certain. Out here in the bush, pregnancy kit wasn't readily available. But she went to Sue anyway to tell her of her suspicion.

"I know just how we can be certain," she said. Sue went to see Billy who excitedly rummaged in her drawer for a pregnancy kit she kept around. _Who would have thought? _ The Cameron women huddled together, waited for something to appear on the stick; suddenly an uproarious happy scream reverberated in the house just when Bryce and Ben were arriving back on horseback.

"What happened?" inquired Bryce.

One look at Belle, Sue and Billy told him what he needed to know, _but which one_? "Billy?" he asked. She shook her head, but a week later they would find out that she, too, was expecting.

"Belle?" she nodded.

Rajo asked, "What's happening?"

"You're going to be a big brother," said Barry.

"Wow," he said.

Bryce cried, so was ribbed to death by his brothers, "Fuck me," they said, "You sook."

Fifth of January came, they gathered at the steps of the homestead. It was for Belle a heart warming moment but also heart breaking. Sue tried to be very brave, she showed a tough exterior. Hugging her sons, telling them to be careful and telling them that she always looked forward to their news.

Belle hasn't considered her future life in all seriousness till this moment. She's a wife of a soldier, potentially a mother of one, too. Perhaps even a grandmother to one. She hoped she'd be as strong as Sue.

_I don't know how you do it_.


	29. Winds of Change

_Author's Note: For Hilary Parker, aka Serenity Blue – hope you like this._

_For back story: Baf's friendship and courtship were detailed in the story "A Pleasant Surprise." Their pregnancy and birth, as well as Bryce and Belle's were told in the story 'September Child'._

**Winds of Change**

After the boys departed, the sudden quiet brought on a cloud of slight melancholy. The buzzing activities, the teasing and the profanities, the comings and the goings were no more replaced by deafening silence. Without a coping mechanism in place Belle was hard hit by it but the others adjusted by simply going about their well established survival routine.

The very next day Sue packed a few things to see her other mob in Cape York, her aboriginal home ground. She asked Belle if she wanted to come along for the scheduled week-end trip. "Where is Cape York?" she asked intrigued.

The ebullient Billy said, "Round the corner."

She laughingly replied, "I don't believe you for one minute."

They all turned around when they heard a familiar voice announced himself, "I'm home". Closely followed by Raf's baritone,"Hetty darling, did you finish packing?" They had planned a road trip to Sydney.

Belle smiled at the sound of 'Hetty Darling' since she found out what the term of endearment was in reference to; she also appreciated the humour behind it. Raf related that the first time he met the diminutive Aussie, who was no more than 4'10 (1.47 meters give or take), and weighed about 80 pounds dripping wet (36 kilos give or take), he told her to his eternal embarrassment, '_I don't mean to offend but you remind me of Hetty,'_

She raised one eyebrow, '_Hetty?'_

'_The Boss on NCIS: LA. Do you watch TV?_'

"She laughed so hard but said, '_I'm not offended. That's kinda cute_.' Then she winked at me which made me blush, I remember thinking _thank God I'm black."_

Billy rushed to Raf, hugged him tight then for the third time in as many days she violently retched. She rushed to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl, "Did I do that to her?" asked Raf in bewilderment.

Sue and Belle looked at each other knowingly, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" asked the younger woman to the matriarch.

"I sure am."

They both joined Billy in the toilet, whispered among themselves, then went to the couple's bedroom leaving both men to wonder what the secret women business was about. Minutes later an almighty whooping erupted.

Raf and Bryce looked at each other, both said, "Fuck me."

"Oh my God," was all Raf could say over and over again. "That's fucking amazing."

The fact that they were pregnant within weeks of each other was simply mind blowing. The discovery wrote off the planned road trips.

Rajo came rushing out of his bedroom in his wheelchair, leg still in a cast, "What's happening?"

Belle told her African son, "Aunt Billy is having a baby."

"Wow, that's great. I have mates to go to the Army with," he said excitedly.

Belle gaped, her heart skipped. _Mates? Did he just say mates? _

She looked at Bryce with accusing eyes that said, '_Do you have anything to do with this?_' Bryce wordlessly replied with his eyes, '_Don't look at me. It's not me_.'

Indeed, the winds of change was sweeping the land!

Raf called his Mom to tell her of the news, but she has news of her own, "Your Dad is coming home, 20 days to go and counting down." _Finally he's out._ His Dad was sentenced to 15 years for killing the man who sexually abused him as a 15 year old musical protégé. He whooped and related the good news to Billy who has an affectionately beautiful relationship with his Dad, they used to visit him in prison regularly when they were in Toronto. Billy grabbed the phone and blurted out, "Mom, it's fucking about time."

Sue covered her eyes and muttered, "God, where did I go wrong?"

Sue also canceled her Cape York adventure. Someone has to stay home to look after Billy since she got the short straw on morning sickness. The melancholic atmosphere was quickly replaced with hopeful expectations.

In the days to come it would become clear that Baf would have to return to Toronto both for Raf's parents' sake and his career. It would just be a matter of when, not if.

Rajo, on the other hand, was also still adamant that he wanted to be in a proper school. Belle was secretly hoping Bryce would discouraged the boy from leaving the homestead but that was one heck of a wishful thinking. There was a better chance of hoping for world peace.

"When is the new term?" he asked Rajo.

"First week of February," he replied keenly. Bryce smiled proudly as it proved to him that Rajo had the initiative to find out for himself.

Belle was alarmed, "That doesn't give us enough time to look for a boarding school."

"There's only one close by, the Blackheath & Thornburgh College in Charters Tower, it's less than 1,000 km away."

_One thousand kilometres. _Bryce put an arm around her, "Pixie, he can handle himself. We'll go see him every fortnight and I'm sure you'll find a way to Skype every night."

Rajo piped up, "Yeah, Ma-Belle. It's gonna be fine. Trust me."

The monsoon season came upon with relentless rain, fierce winds and angry thunderstorms. Thor has unleased hell upon the land. The men were busy mostly saving livestock, cows mainly, bogged in soggy creeks. It was one hellish time for everyone, especially Belle who hasn't seen anything like it.

Thrice in the month of January, Raf and Bryce were called upon, along with the regular search and rescue personnel, to rescue unprepared tourists who got cut off by raising flood water the other side of Burketown. Raf flew the helo while Bryce prepared to abseil out of rotary-winged aircraft suspended with a rope. The weather was so severe rescue attempts had to be called off. The rain was whipped about by strong winds, so strong that it was falling horizontally.

It was a suicide mission, so men returned to base and waited out the worse of it. The waiting paid off. They had the pleasure of rescuing a father and son pair that day. The second rescue that same day was so death defying neither men would mention it to their wives, it would be best consigned to their own memory bank never to see the light of day. Sadly, the third sortie had to be called off. This time there was no hope of any aircraft flying, not without endangering more people.

One other January event would spin their world around as if caught up in a whirlwind. Sue had a minor stroke and had to be airlifted to hospital. The scare left Bryce rattled internally. And to make things worse, the phone vibrated. He's become painfully aware of Belle's increasing phone phobia so he has made sure she never heard it ring. He was pacing the hospital corridor when it jiggled, he picked it up and gave the usual laconic answer, "Wolf".

Belle rounded the corner with a cup of coffee for him. He smiled warmly hoping to deflect her suspicion but she cottoned on, he has the black phone to his ear. It dawned on him, _fuck_, his personal phone was silver. She kept her distance, a smile frozen on her face.

When he closed down the phone, he swiftly strode forward to cuddle her, "It's just a minor domestic," he said. "Wanna come to Sydney with me?"

"When?"

"Second week of Feb," he replied. "Rajo would be in boarding school then and Mom would be home in Malanda with my Aunts."

"Ok, I'd love to tag along." He kissed the top of her head and realised finally something's got to give.

They called home that night to tell Billy everything's fine with Sue, "Her ticker's fine," he said. "How's Rajo? I hope he's not giving you any trouble."

"He's a good kid. He takes after me," said Billy. Bryce laughed.

"We're flying home tomorrow morning, do you want anything from the City?" Billy gave him a list of things they needed and said, "I want mango ice cream, crates and crates of it."

"Crates and crates of it," he repeated. "Ok, done deal, see you in the morning."

"What was that about?"

"Billy's craving for mango ice cream."

"Speaking of craving, I want to eat at McDonald."

"Come again."

She put two hands on her head to make an arch, "Yellow arches, McDonald."

"Good heavens, you're feeding my child fast food!" he was incredulous. Nevertheless, there was nothing he wouldn't do for her at that stage, even eating the meals himself. He reckoned they should all perish from heart attack at the same time.

Upon their return to Gregory Downs, seeing the isolation of Cameron Country from the air, he reflected upon the isolation of his wife. A recurring theme tumbled out of his mind. _Who's going to look after her if something happens to me? _It didn't bear thinking about_.  
_

"Hey, you've been unusually quiet," she observed.

He gathered her in his arms and simply said, "Just thinking." The cobwebs in his brain was still there when they retired for bed and then his nightmare begun...


	30. Nightmares

_Author's Note: For back story: Dr Michelle Bouvier was first mentioned in the story 'The Wolf'._

**Nightmares**

He was back in the Congo. The jungle. The swollen river. The mosquitoes. The paralysing poverty. The sound of hate. The smell of greed. The gunfire and the explosions. It was so real.

He was running with a limp wee body in his arms but he couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. The body was covered in blood, dripping everywhere. The red liquid leaked all over him, the metallic smell pervasive in his nostrils. He was covered with it, spreading rapidly in his arms and palms making the light body slippery.

There's the jungle clearing, the landing zone. A Chinook helicopter was waiting, massive twin rotors turning, kicking up clouds of dust and debris. He was now just 100 metres from it. For reason he couldn't explain he looked back, Belle was running behind him. He stood still for a second shocked at the sight of her but someone aft was urging him on, "Come on, you weak fuck, run." He gave it his all, Belle lagged further and further behind. He handed the dying child to the Air Force crewman. The child gone, he turned back just in time to see a bullet from an AK-47 cut Belle down, her face blown off.

It played in his mind in slow motion. He run towards her as she dropped to the ground lifeless. Her beautiful elfin face gone.

He gasped for air. He moaned and uttered some unintelligible words.

Belle wanted to touch him, to wake him but knew better than to rouse him this way. Instead, she whispered to him, calmly; trying not to betray the fear that was rising within her. He heard Belle call his name, "Bryce darling." He heard it again. "Darling, wake up."

His eyes flew open in the absence of light. His hearing picked up the sound of Belle's faint breathing next to him, then the humming of the air conditioner. He swallowed hard, he turned to see her silhouette in the darkness. He reached to touch her face, she clasped his hand. Kissed it. "I love you," she said. The tenderness brought tears to his eyes.

He kissed her before hauling himself of the hammock and dragging himself to the shower. Belle turned off the air conditioning, opened all the windows. Outside, thunderstorm was displaying celestial fireworks that was both terrifying and awesome. The noise at times deafening, at other times but a crackle. The wind was blowing strongly causing the overhanging frangipani branches to scrape against the side of the house.

She left Bryce to shower off his nightmare. His muscled arms pushed against the wall as he bowed his head under the shower, hot water coursing down him. His heart rate slowed down but his mind was still racing. It's been awhile since he's had a bad dream, _Why now?_

He hasn't realised he's been in the shower a long time, till she came in holding a towel; wordlessly, she turned off the tap and wrapped him with it. She led him to recline on the hammock width wise while she dried him with another towel.

From the wardrobe, she retrieved their marriage sarong, she climbed in next to him, the flimsy material their only protection from the elements. They watched the thunderstorm rage across the sky. When the celestial show ended, she asked, "Want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. How was he going to tell her that he chose to save a stranger's life over hers? He should have left the child to die and returned for her, even in his dreams. Instead he held her. He turned her so her back was close to his chest. He shifted into a foetal position, she did the same, molding herself to him. His hold got tighter, "I can't lose you," he said. "I can't."

"You won't" she said. "I'm here."

His thought drifted to that moment Michelle Bouvier died. She died in his arms. The stabbing pain he carried in his heart for years went unabated. It was constant. Searing. He thought he would never, ever fall in love again. He couldn't do that again. Not again. He locked up his heart until a red-haired elfin managed to sneaked in. From the first all he wanted to do was protect her. Now, it would seem he would be the death of her. "I can't lose you," he said again.

She caressed his arm in reply.

Exhaustion soon took him away, he slept. She didn't. She wanted to keep watch, to make sure she was there to wake him in case evil returns.

It was 07:00 hours when he finally woke up. Belle was already in the kitchen preparing breakfast for Rajo. Today, they would be enrolling him at boarding school as a fourth grader. "Where's Dad?" the boy inquired.

She smiled, "Still sleeping... he had a difficult night. Have your breakfast, it's a long day for you. I'll go check on him."

Belle walked into their bedroom to find him already dressed, looking very handsome in his usual black Tee, denim jeans, sand-coloured military boots. She wrapped her arms around his waist, "Rajo's very excited," she said to his chest. He tilted her face, smiled down at her and said, "But you're not?" She made a face. He just laughed at her. They headed out to the kitchen arm in arm.

Raf came out bleary eyed, "What time are you guys leaving?" he asked as he filled a glass of water for Billy.

Bryce replied, "Not long, why? Do you need us to get anything?"

"Nah, just that Billy's not well. I'm staying to look after her. It rained heavily last night, check the east side for flooding."

"Thanks, mate, for reminding me. Are you ready, Raj?"

"For ages," he said. Bryce patted his head, "Come on then you little rascal." Rajo expertly walked on crutches to the Ute, his broken tibia requiring another two months of immobility to heal properly. He sat in the second cabin, belted himself in the middle seat so he could see out the front and also to make room for his leg.

"I'm just checking the property, ok, then we're off to your school." The eastern side, much to his dismay, was indeed flooded, not extremely but enough to drown a calf. "I've gotta do something about that, put a drainage in..."

She said, "Maybe all you need is dig it up and make a man made lake then screen it with willows..."

He smiled, thought of his old digger and said, "I think you're right. That might be a cheaper solution." _And another long-term project_, he sighed.

The school visit proved to be highly informative but it didn't assuaged Belle's separation anxiety. Her son would be the only coloured child in the whole school and it worried her. She was the only red-haired girl in her school growing up and she was bullied to her eyeballs because of it.

The confident nine year old however was oblivious to her worry which she thought was good. The last thing she wanted was transfer her own unwarranted anxieties to him. She overheard the Principal of the school asked Bryce if he has any questions, her husband said "no." He turned to her and repeated the questions, "Any questions Belle?"

"Yes," she said, "He'll be on crutches for another two months, will that be a problem?"

The principal thought about it and said, "May be. As you can see, our school infrastructure's not designed for children with physical disability."

Bryce asked Rajo what he thought of the stairs and the ground he has to cover to get from accommodation building to the classroom,"No problem" said the child, "No big deal."

"Well, that settles it then," said Bryce. The men headed to the Registrar's office to sort out matriculation. Rajo Mabo Cameron was a late entrant. School was due to start in a week's time so no one was more surprised that his son was accepted as an intake than himself. The planets were aligned.

Belle stayed outside and roamed the grounds with Rajo who refused to let her walk too close. She asked why so. He said nonchalantly, "Do you see any other parents around? No, because it's embarassing. I'm not a baby anymore." She laughed.

Bryce paid for tuition, purchased uniforms, and school supplies. There was no turning back now, they've let the boy out to explore the wider world outside of Cameron Country. He was sure it would be worth it.

They returned to the farm lost in their thoughts. So many things changing all at once. When they reached home, Raf had some good news, "Mum's being discharged earlier than we all thought. She's free to leave anytime next week."

Bryce called the hospital in Townsville, spoke to Sue briefly and arranged to pick her up on Monday next week, after they drop off Rajo to his boarding school.

That night, under the watchful eye of the full moon, they went to sleep.

Belle was standing in the middle of the paddock alone. She was dressed in a pale pink summer dress, a sheer shawl covered her arms from the sun, a wide straw hat sat atop her head. She bent down to pick up a dandelion seed head, she blew on it, little white seed heads scattered with the wind. She turned to gaze at him standing at a distance, they waved to each other. Her smile dazzled him. He turned away for a moment, when he turned back she was gone. Poof, just like that.

His heart started to race, double beating, faster and faster...

He opened his eyes when his leg jerked violently in an attempt to run to where she was last seen. _What the hell is wrong with me? We fell pregnant and now I'm having nightmares_, _I don't believe this_.

She watched him get up to take another long shower. She despaired, _Why can't you talk to me?_

The next day, he called the one they called Soldier Whisperer. Someone who helped him once before.

He was desperate now.


	31. Something's Got to Give

_Author's Note: The Magnetic Gateway Holiday Village does exist in Townsville, I used it as a location because it fitted the story well. The Black Hawk incident described in this chapter was a real life event._

_For back story: Belle's life on the run from a psychotic killer was told in the story 'Full Metal Jacket'. _

**Something's Got to Give**

They dropped off Rajo at the accommodation block of his boarding school the day before the official start of the school year. As they traveled in the car, the boy wonder made it clear that neither of them was to attempt to kiss him or embarrass him in any way. Bryce guffawed, Belle just shook her head.

On arrival, many other kids were being dropped off and escorted with their luggage to the boarding house. They met the house mother, Rajo's three room mates and their parents. Not surprisingly, their son won over the parents of his new friends with his easy manner and polite conversation. On reflection, Belle thought it was all due to Sue's magical upbringing; the way she encouraged his uniqueness to blossom. She passed on one simple parenting tip to Belle, she said, "Whatever you do, don't over correct. Nothing's more disheartening to a child than to find himself wrong a lot of the time."

"He's very confident," observed one parent, "Which school did he transfer from?"

"He was home-schooled," replied Bryce. "We're just as amazed that he's handling himself well."

Belle kept her ears peeled on Rajo, raised her eyebrows when she overheard him say to his new mates as he mustered them into a Troop, "We're gonna join the Army at the same time. It's just gonna be eight more years to go." It felt as if cold water was dumped on her. _Eight years. Is that all? _

It really didn't concern her that Rajo wanted to join the Service, it concerned her that he was obsessed with it. When it was time to leave, Rajo waved at them and they waved back. They walked on the grounds of the school for a wee bit. Belle mentioned her concern to Bryce who laughingly said, "It happens every year. He gets surrounded by his macho uncles over Christmas, so it's all he could think about after they're gone. Give it another week and it'll be water under the bridge." The explanation made sense.

"What's your dream for him?"

"My dream for him is not to ever see war."

He affectionately draped an arm over her shoulder and she an arm around his waist. They walked side by side without further conversation. From Charter Tower to Townsville would be over 200 km of tar road one-way so they stopped at a servo (slang for service station) to refuel and to refill empty petrol drums. "Pixie, are you hungry?"

"Very but I want Maccas."

"It's close to three hours of driving to Townsville, can you wait that long?"

"Yeah."

"Did you ask my baby if he or she's agreeable to that?" Belle pouted, "Water's fine."

He went into the servo to pay for the petrol, bottles of water and snacks. He couldn't help but notice the small TV sitting atop the counter, the flashing news caught his eyes: Suicide bomber kills Western diplomats in Cairo. Within ten seconds of the newsflash, his black phone jiggled. He picked up the call as he ducked between shelves, "Wolf". He listened intently then the caller was gone.

The wolf came out of the servo armed with bags of crisps, chocolates, water and a grim expression she hasn't seen in a while. The last time he wore that facial expression was when he was in Toronto en route to somewhere mysterious. Her heart raced a little but she kept quiet.

He handed her the bags, he said, "Pixie, could you open a Mars bar for me?" as he swung out of the servo into asphalted road to join the non-existent traffic. She pealed off the wrapper and gave it to him. Two bites and the thing was gone. She stayed quiet.

The three hours drive time was reduced to two hours and fifteen minutes. Before she knew it they were parking out the front of a Maccas, he amused himself watching her devour hamburgers like there was no tomorrow. "Thank you," she said.

"Anything for you," he said with a wink.

After lunch, they checked into Magnetic Gateway Holiday Village, not far from the hospital. "Why don't you rest and then we'll visit Mum?"

"What about you?"

"I need to see someone urgently, I won't be long." He escorted her to their deluxe en suite villa situated in a beautiful tropical country setting. For a budget accommodation, it was well furnished and the facilities more than adequate. He kissed her and made her promise not to venture out in the afternoon heat, she repaid his obsessive concern over her welfare with a scowl, "Stop it," she said.

"Just sayin'," he said defensively, "See you soon."

He parked the Ute in close proximity to the Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) Base Townsville, an important forward operating base located north-west of the thriving City. Among several military units and squadron, this is also home to Combat Survival Training School where he learned his skills on evasion and escape.

The High Range Training Area, Townsville was also the site of the greatest loss of Australian Special Forces lives in peace-time. On 12 June 1996, two years before he passed SAS selection, two Black Hawk helicopters collided as they reached the target zone during training exercise. Eighteen Australian servicemen were killed, a further 12 were critically injured and equipment worth AUS$37 million, at that time, was destroyed.

Such is the extreme danger of SF soldiering, that even in training their lives are at risk At the time of the accident, 24 aircrew from the 5th Aviation Regiment and 43 soldiers of the Special Air Service were conducting a live-fire air mobile assault on a simulated terrorist position. More deaths among SF personnel have occurred during training than in combat.

The strain and stress of their training is such that at anytime they could perish but it's also the brutality and the discipline of their training that keep them alive and well in the theatre of war.

Bryce's destination wasn't the RAAF Base but a small nondescript bar not far from it. He jogged the rest of the way, knocked on the glass door where a discoloured sign with the opening and closing times hanged. "We're closed," hollered an old man from behind the counter.

He called the land-line, the irate man huffed as he picked up the phone, "Tommo, it's Bryce. I'm here to see Emily." The old man smiled and said, "Why din't you say so, ya mug."

The leathery man, himself a former SAS, opened the door. They hugged warmly, "She's just out the back sorting some paperwork. What can I get ya?"

"Can'a beer."

A can of Victoria Bitter appeared, he nodded with appreciation and paid for it, "Keep the change, Tommo."

He sat down at a corner table, eyes focused on old man Tommo. After 20 years in the Regiment, he got washed out and washed up outside the bar. The man who devoted his life to the service of his country was shafted to civilian life unprepared. Without family, job, commitment, and the life and camaraderie he's always known he was cast adrift til Emily took him in. _Years from now, I could be him without my family... without Belle._

It was at that time, when she rescued Tommo from the claws of depression that the work of the Soldier Whisperer commenced.

The SW never even set foot at University, all she had was seven years of primary schooling in total. But what she lacked in education she more than made up for with a heart as big as Australia. She was wise in her counsel and non-judgmental; moreover she listened and what they told her never got told to anyone else. Her men knew she'd keep their secrets even if they tortured her. The powers that be would keel over and die if they found out their Regimental men have been spilling their guts to her; but they'd much rather trust Emily than those high highfaluting, multi-labeled, over educated psychologists on the Department of Defense's payroll.

Emily, the soldier Whisperer, was one of the 500,000 child Migrants from the United Kingdom known as the "Forgotten Australians".

"Forgotten Australians" is a term the Australian Senate used to describe the children who migrated to Australia under assisted child migration schemes; and were brought up in orphanages, children's homes, institutions or foster care in Australia up until the early 1990s. Many of these children experienced neglect and abuse while in institutional care.

She came to Australia as an eight year old in the '50s. The abuses she suffered from the hands of those who were meant to protect her were too horrific to even whisper about. All she said to those who cared to ask about her story was that she has forgiven them all.

The Soldier Whisperer was formerly a prostitute, then a barmaid, then a bar owner where she served not only cold drinks but also safe passage. She often jokingly referred to herself as "Anti Charon", a pun of the word 'Auntie'. In Greek mythology, Charon (Kharon) is the ferryman of Hades who carries souls of the newly deceased across the rivers Styx and Acheron that divided the world of the living from the world of the dead. She was 'Anti Charon' because she ferried the emotionally dead to the world of the living.

"Hey, you," she said with a smile.

He stood up to greet her, he kissed her on the cheek and apologised for not visiting more often, "I'm only here when I need help," he said disappointed with himself.

"Don't worry about it. Time is in short supply for all of you."

Conversations with Emily was never hurried, there's not that requisite "one-hour appointment" followed by "What about we schedule you again for next week?".

With Emily, it's "however long it takes". There was only one rule, no alcohol. For some men that rule has been hard to take, session in a bar and not a drop of alcohol. It was likes being thrown in the middle of the ocean, '_Water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink'._

She took the can of VB from his hand, "Tell me, what's that little rascal of yours up to?" That has been one of her gifts, the ability to start a conversation as if they just left it off a moment ago.

"He's at boarding school now," he said beaming.

"You've cut the apron string."

"There was never an apron string, Emily."

"So what else?"

"You probably not heard yet, I got married three months ago and we're expecting."

She laughed, "That's a lot of life changes in one go, got married, pregnant and first child off to school. Bryce, has anyone told you to do things easy? Combined, all these events amount to an upheaval of epic proportion."

"It just happened," he said.

"Are you still with the Regiment?"

He whispered, "Yes and no." His eyes conveying _lets not talk about it_. She felt goose pimples cover her forearms and neck, _Good God, Bryce. _All she could think of, rightly or wrongly, was that the Wolf had been moved to 4 Squadron of the SAS, the long denied Black Operative elite unit within the Regiment. These men have been rumoured to be attached to ASIS, the Australian Secret Intelligence Service, the overseas-based counterpart of ASIO. _That's just insane. _She knew better though than to ask for confirmation, it wouldn't be forthcoming although she knew he trusted her with his life!_  
_

"And your Mum, how is she?"

"She's at Townsville Hospital, minor stroke."

Emily shook her head and said, "I think I need a beer." He laughed.

She gazed at him with great affection, like he was her own son, one of hundreds, "You're having bad dreams, aren't you?"

"How did you know?"

"'Cause I'm having nightmares just listening to you. Anyway, how are your brothers and that cute little sister of yours?"

"They're all good, we were all together last Christmas."

"That's something to celebrate about," she said. She weighed the situation carefully before she asked, "What are your dreams about?"

He related to her the last two dreams in vivid details, adding, "They started when I found out we were pregnant.

"That's not all... I have other dreams... sometimes I'm in Somalia, sometimes in Kandahar, sometimes in East Timor. Sometimes I'm in all these places at once. I'd be running for my life, but the scenery would change from the mountainous landscape of Kandahar, to the dense jungle of East Timor to the desert of Somalia."

"Dreams are often caused by anxiety, what are you afraid of?"

"I'm afraid for Belle, I'm afraid to leave her alone."

"Belle is your wife?" He nodded.

"When you say afraid to leave her alone, do you mean afraid you might die?"

"No, not that. I'm more afraid because of Gregory Downs' isolation. Mum is getting on, she's keen to be closer to her sisters. Rajo's in school and I... you know... I have this job that fucking takes me to places no one's ever heard of."

"Tell me about Belle, how did you meet her?"

"She's Canadian. I meet her at the time she was being hunted by a psychotic killer."

"I take it she didn't meet this psycho in a bar..."

"No, she was a forensic accountant and he was her boss."

"Ah, forensic. She stuck her nose where it didn't belong..."

Bryce smiled, "Yeah, that." Then he related to her in detail Belle's life on the run from Michael Piper.

"Do you see a pattern here?" she asked.

"Pattern?"

"The type of women you fall for," she said.

His brow creased, "No. One was blonde, she's a ranga. One was French, she's Canadian. One was a doctor, she's an accountant. One tall, and she's just slightest taller than Billy. No similarities."

Emily grinned, "That's where you're wrong. You see Bryce.. you fall in love with the inner person, not the appearance. You always fall for the heroine-warrior types. Strong, fearless, gutsy. She's tough, you really have no need to worry about her."

"But why do I keep dreaming of losing her?"

"Might it not be that your memory of Michelle's death is affecting your feelings, driving your fear."

"All I know is that I'm afraid to lose her."

"In what way? Afraid that if you leave her for a day someone might take her away? It doesn't make sense, you were with Michelle when she was killed. Your presence didn't guarantee her safety. She was there by her own choice, Bryce. She wanted to be with her patients. She wanted to make that journey with them. You were around when it happened, when she was killed, but being in Somalia was her choice in the first place."

Emily reached for Bryce's hand, "Does Belle know what you do?"

"Yeah," he said.

"She's ok with it?"

"I think so," he said. "We've talked about it."

"'_I think so_' is not the same as being certain. If you're not sure then you need to ask her. Point blank, you need to know clearly where she stands. You mentioned the isolation of Gregory Downs, maybe the farm is what needs to go. But, let me make this very clear, it should be her choice as much as yours. You can't make the decision for her as much as you think you know what's best."

That confirmed it then: His constant presence couldn't guarantee Belle's safety but if he could mitigate the isolation, if they could move closer to civilisation, she would be better off. His brain cleared a little. He glanced at the time, he's been gone for nearly four hours, "I better go, she's waiting for me."

"I'd love to meet her one day."

"I'll bring her around," with that he bade good-bye.

He arrived back at the villa and found her watching a reality TV show, cackling her head off. "Hi darling," she said, "Come watch this with me, it's so funny."

"What is it?"

"A show called 'Jersey Shore'. It's hilarious." He endured half an hour of it, it was the most banal show he's ever seen his entire life. It was pure and utter hell. When they turned off the TV, and he had her undivided attention, he said, "Pixie, what do you say we sell the farm?"

She looked at him open mouthed, "Why?"

"Sometimes my job takes me away, I can't bear to think you're alone."

"Are you sure? It's your life-long dream..."

"I'm sure. Very sure."

She looked into his eyes. _Something's happened_. She smiled tentatively, unsure how to feel exactly, "Ok," she said, "If you're sure." But she wasn't overjoyed.


	32. In the Trenches by Choice

**In the Trenches by Choice**

Outisde, the air was heavy with humidity but inside the air was heavy with tension. Tension between them. She couldn't understand what happened in the hours after he left to meet with someone. Selling Cameron country was never discussed, it was never in the work, but suddenly its an all consuming task. They were meant to visit Sue instead he used up the time to tee up appointments with real estate agents.

She felt resentment slowly building up inside her, tearing at her self-control. Something's happened or was happening and she longed to understand what that was; but how could she when he's not talking to her?

She sat with her knees tucked under her chin watching the task-oriented alpha male work the phone. Increasingly frustrated, she decided chewing her finger nail was not going to solve her problem nor enlighten her of their issues, if there were any. Her choices were simple, force a confrontation or forever hold her peace. She waited until he was finished with the call before telling him, "We need to talk."

Aware that she was silently stewing, he promptly sat on his haunches opposite her, "You got my attention," he said.

Speaking softly, as she tried to keep a lid on her Irish temper, "I need to know why you suddenly want to sell the farm."

"'Cause it's not practical," he said. "It's too isolated."

"It doesn't bother me," she replied.

"It doesn't now but later it will. Rajo's gone to boarding school. Billy and Raf are going back to Toronto. Mum is getting on and wants to live with her sisters in Malanda. If I have to go somewhere there won't be anyone around. I can't leave you there alone."

"It doesn't matter where we move, I would still be alone when you're away."

"But it's not the same. Being alone and being isolated aren't the same."

"You're doing this because you feel responsible for me," she said. "I don't want you to be responsible for me. I am responsible for my own choices. It's my choice and I chose to be with you." She wiped her nose and her tears, "I don't need you to protect me, I can take care of myself."

"But _I am_ responsible for you," the alpha male protested.

"Is someone reposnsible for you if you get killed in combat?"

"No," he answered succintly.

"Why not? Is it not because no one asked you to become a soldier. You chose to be a soldier, right?"

"I did."

"Did you chose to do what you're doing now, whatever the hell it is?"

The way she posed the question made him smile, he answered, "I did."

"Did you choose me to be your wife?"

"I did."

"Well, so did I Mr Cameron. I chose you to be my husband. We're in the trenches together. We're in this together. We'll just have to work it out as equals. I don't need you to be responsible for me. I made my choices. I've chosen to accept you for who you are and for what you do. I've chosen to make a life for myself at Gregory Downs. So unless you're selling it for some other reason then I can't go along with it."

_Someone did say I fall for heroine-warrior types_. He wiped her tears and gave her a sheepish smile, "Sorry," he said, "I'm a dickhead."

He laid his cheek on her knees for a minute. When he raised his head, he said, as he remembered his fellows who are presently adrift; lost in the sea of humanity, "Pixie, you know what you've done for me? You've anchored me."


	33. Truth and Consequence

**Truth and Consequence**

Bryce moved to the couch next to Belle. He has just shifted _Her Royal Lightness _on his lap when the phone in his pocket vibrated, she raised her eyebrow and said before he answered it, "My other condition to world peace, put the phones back to ringing."

He fished out the phone from his left pocket. It was the black phone. She didn't need to be asked, she left him to it and padded out to the kitchen of their rented cabin, so called deluxe villa, that depends of course on one's definition of deluxe. She boiled water for tea, grateful for the simple starter amenities.

The budget accommodation was adequate enough but she was certain Bryce didn't pick it as a romantic destination. The place was a little deserted it being off-peak season for tourist. Their accommodation was so close to the trees it gave a feeling of being in the middle of the bush, she guessed it was why he picked it. He wasn't exactly a marble lobby kinda guy.

So far, all she heard him say was his SF nickname and nothing else. She made tea for two and decided to bring them over to the living room in as much as there was nothing to overhear. At any rate, his one-way conversation was over in even less time than it took to boil water. He was done by the time she has tea brought in.

"So," she said.

"Tomorrow, after we take Mum home to Malanda, we head for Sydney." He mentioned taking her there before but it still took her by surprise, "Wow. How long for?"

"A week, more or less," he said.

"If you knew we were going to Sydney why didn't you tell me, I could have packed a suitcase for us."

"We were supposed to go next week but it's been moved forward. Unexpectedly."

"Unexpectedly?" He shrugged his shoulder and said nothing in reply.

She gave him a cup of tea before nursing hers. She turned her back on him, raised her legs and bent them at the knees. She rested her back against him, he in turn hooked an arm around her and nuzzled her neck. The atmosphere in the room was warm as their bodies fused together in that embrace but it was utterly silent; even as she blew the hot air from her tea, she did so quietly. "Thanks for the tea," he said. He felt her head bob up and down.

They silently drank the hot beverage, minutes later, Bryce made a comment, "Is this going to be our own version of a tea ceremony?" A smile cracked on her face despite the unexpected turn of events. She turned around to face him, "Darling, how does telling me where you're going a State secret?"

He stroked her cheek, "It's just protocol for operatives not to tell their families anything, to avoid compromise. What you don't know, you can't tell, whether inadvertently or under duress. It's for your safety as much as mine."

"It's too paranoid don't you think?"

"Paranoia keeps us alive."

"Ok, granted. What are we going to Sydney for?"

"Can you keep a lid on your curiosity for 15 hours?"

"Fifteen hours? That's so long." He pressed the top of her nose. He drew her close for a cuddle. They could have stayed curled up on the couch all night except, "I'm hungry?" she said.

"Come on then, let's go to Maccas." She happily slipped her feet in her canvas shoes and headed out with him. Driving to the city centre, it felt like they were miles away but traffic being light this time of the evening, they were there in less than 10 minutes.

He let her order for them as he scanned for a table with good vantage point, meaning a view of the door and where his back would be against the wall. It seemed to him that every mother, father and children were out for fast food tonight. He opened his wallet to pay and said, "Take out." She looked at him surprised. "What's wrong with eating it here?"

"No seats," he replied. She looked around the half empty place, then it dawned on her that the table he wanted wasn't available. Their order bagged, he grabbed it in one hand and held her hand with the other; but as they turned to leave, a black Honda Accord arrived. From inside the fast food glassed enclosure, he observed the driver parked the car taking up two parking spaces, then five male teenagers and a young adult male spilled out of the car.

Bryce had to make a decision, stay in the store or leave. If they leave now, they would meet them in the car park half way towards where his Ute was parked. The answer came to him when he glanced back to find the three female staff nervously huddled together in the kitchen. The oldest staff has a phone to her ear, _Trouble. _He looked at the unsuspecting Moms and Dads with their littlies and decided if there was going to be trouble, it better be out there, not in.

He quickly found a table for Belle, "Sit here and stay put."

The boisterous teeners, all dressed gangster fashion style, led by a 20something male has the swagger and attitude of a feral pack of rabid dogs. Their cockiness no doubt fueled by drugs and their bravado by being in a gang. Bryce left the store, walked out as if oblivious. The pack stopped in their track and looked at each other, their eyes betraying what they were thinking, _alone and an easy target_.

The kids surrounded him, the leader said menacingly, "Your wallet or your life." Belle watched all this unfold from inside the store and felt her stomach turn upside down.

The kids whooped as one demented pack, baying for blood sport. Someone from behind gave him a shove. He slowly pulled his wallet from his back pocket with his right hand and made a show of handing it over to the top dog. An eager teen to his right tried to snatch it from him, he quickly brought his hand down, "He asked for it," he said, "he gets to have it."

The acne-pockmarked-face leader laughed, "I like you. You're not stupid." He waited for Mr Acne to get closer than an arms length, he would have to literally be breathing down on him. A trained fighter would always wait for the adversary to get closer before acting.

Mr Acne didn't know what hit him, in one single motion, Bryce bent his knees slightly, pivoted his foot, moved his whole body and raised his shoulders as the punch connected with the solar plexus. The rotation of the body, the short extension of the arm and the fist powered by shoulder muscles gave it such a wallop than the leader fell to the ground clutching his chest, heaving for breath, writhing in agony.

The gang was so taken aback, they jumped back as one. He turned 360 degrees and asked, "Who's next?" When no one made a move, he said, "Take your mate, leave before I change my mind." But one teenager hasn't learned his lesson, he turned back, eyed Bryce and gave him the finger. The Wolf calmly pulled out a 0.20c coin from his pocket, aimed and tossed it as a missile, it flew at speed hitting the teener between the eye. The next thing his mates knew, he was on the ground bleeding, his forehead split opened by the cupro-nickel object.

The gang clambered back into their vehicle and left in a hurry, Belle rushed out of the store to hug him, "That was a really stupid thing to do," she said.

"What?" he replied, "As opposed to letting them in there to terrorise everyone. Come on, let's go." The police car was just arriving as they were pulling out of the car park. Bryce scanned his rear view mirror in case the kids were more stupid than they looked. Satisfied they were not heading for an ambush, he drove to the Townsville waterfront, ate their packed dinner in the Ute before going out for a stroll on the foreshore, graced by weeping willow trees along the length of it.

The next day, they check Mum out of Townsville Hospital and drove her home to a handsome and rustic cottage in Malanda. She met her three aunties-in-law who doted on her and who all said, without so much as a skerrick of political correctness, how clever Bryce was to land her; like he went fishing one day and caught her. What a funny bunch, she thought.

After a couple of hours of mindless chatter, Bryce firmly said "Goodbye, see you later". They were reluctantly allowed to leave.

At Townsville Airport, he removed a Platinum Qantas Club card from his wallet, held it to a Q Card reader in the terminal, where a visual indication on the reader appeared followed by an audible tone to confirm they were checked-in. An SMS confirmation follow shortly after into Bryce's black phone. "That was quick," she said.

They waited for their Sydney flight in the Qantas Airport Lounge. She fidgeted the whole time, wondering and dying to know what was going on. He amused himself watching her fidget which she thought was cruel in the extreme. The wait happened to coincide with her feeling unusually affectionate. Occupying a large single arm chair, she unashamedly sat on his lap, draped her legs over the armchair. She was nestled on his chest when four SF guys walked in.

Flashes of instant recognition between the men lasered backward and forward. One of the guys said aloud, "No wonder shit-face disappeared, he's here having a cuddle fest." The other guys said, "Left us holding a bag load of crap in New Delhi." Bryce laughed at the digs. He lifted Belle off his lap and introduced the lads to her.

A ginger haired guy imaginatively called Red said, "You f'ing, pardon my French, married this guy? Were you running a fever the day you said 'yes'?"

One guy sidled up to Belle and said, "Dya know what we call him? We call him Angelina Jolie." Bryce groaned, "Come on, guys." She looked bewildered. She could understand an Eric Bana moniker but Angelina Jolie?

"He's into adoption," explained one.

Bryce shook his head remembering the sticks he endured from the guys when he told them he was adopting Rajo; it was so relentless he contemplated quitting the Regiment. It became even more ridiculous when the lads visited him at Cameron Country while he was recuperating from a gunshot wound to his gut and found him changing diapers.

When their flight was called for boarding, Bryce couldn't peel Belle fast enough. He counted his lucky stars that the Troopers were Melbourne-bound, no doubt heading for the training facility at Enoggera Hills.

The afternoon Jetstar flight was roughly three hours, it was 18:00 hours by the time they exited Sydney Domestic Airport. They walked towards the taxi rank, the queue of waiting passengers was long but at least the wait wasn't. Bryce let her climbed into the cab first before following in, "Paddington. I'll direct you where to go when we get there." The Indian driver, typically a new migrant not familiar with Sydney streets, nodded and started fiddling with his GPS. Bryce said, "Forget that, I'll tell you how I want to get there."

The first thing she noticed were the trendy young people, except for a couple of gray haired seniors, they were mostly young professionals. They walked about 500 metres from where they were dropped off. It was a three-storey art deco building. She silently watched Bryce key in a code. She heard a faint click, indicating the door was now open.

They climbed up to the third floor. He stopped in front of a unit next to the fire exit, punched in a four-digit code, this time she didn't even hear a faint click. She watched him wiped the keypad clean before pushing the deceptive looking fire door. It was part steel and heavy.

He flicked on the lights, put a finger against his lips. Turning to an object hanging behind the door, he took it off the hook. With it, he swept the one-bed unit for bugs. And just for fun, or perhaps just to annoy her, he scanned her too. "What are you doing that for?" she said. He smiled and scanned himself for bugs as well.

"Ok, clean," he said.

"What's this place?"

"Welcome to my hidey hole." She hugged him, pleased to be let into his world a little bit more. He gave her a five minute tour of the place, it was cosy or small, depending on one's perspective, so there was not much to show and tell.

"How long have you had this?"

"Five years," he said. "It's been a pretty good investment too. A great little nest egg."

He opened the fridge, it was well stocked, so was the pantry. "I'm making dinner. No Maccas for you." He removed his Tee shirt and readied to cook, she looked at him adoringly and wondered how many women out there have hunky cooks.

"I'll go have a shower," she said. Then stopped when she realised she has nothing fresh to wear. "Darling, do you have spare shirt here?"

"Wardrobe's in the bedroom."

She opened a door and found an array of business suits, many of them designer labels. Formal leather shoes were neatly arranged in pairs. Silk brand new ties hang in order of colour. She opened the other side where things where folded neatly. Here were black tees, camo and denin jeans.

His wardrobe was exactly like him, she thought, one side Special Forces, one side whatever.

She borrowed a black tee and hanged her white sundress to air and to save it from looking like a crumpled piece of rag. She would have to wear it again tomorrow til she could buy a few articles of clothing.

She came out freshly showered and wearing a black tee, a sumptuous dinner was waiting. "What's for dinner?"

"Malaysian beef rendang and rice."

"Wow you can really cook."

"You'd be surprised, most SF blokes are good cook. It's hard to survive on ready to eat meals. You get creative really quickly."

After dinner, he gave her a document to read. "It's the secret I've been keeping from you." She took it from him with both hands. He left her to peruse it, he poured himself a glass of red and prepared his bath. A good soaking was what he needed just about now but first he has to shower. The powerful jet stream and the towel scrub eased and massaged his back muscles. He stepped out of the shower just as water filled up 2/3rd of the bath.

He relaxed and closed his eyes. Before long, he sensed her come into the bathroom. She sat on the cold tiled floor, rested her chin on the edge of the tub underneath her arms. "What do you want to do?"

"What do we do?" he corrected her.

He finally revealed the naked truth. He has left the Regiment but it offered him a two-year extension. An offer that was due to expire in seven days. He has to make a decision that would bear huge consequences on their lives.

Currently, he's on temporary attachment with the ASIS, a clandestine spy agency akin to the UK's M16 and the US's CIA. It is part of the Department Foreign Affairs and Trade, headquartered in Canberra, the nation's capital.

"When I re-sign with the Regiment, I'd be attached to 4 Squadron, the black ops unit within the elite Commando Unit." Not all Special Forces men were born equal. The UK's SAS has a team known only as "The Excrement", the US Navy Seals has "Team Six." The Australian SAS has 4 Squadron.

The dangers inherent with what a black operatives do for a living could only be classed as extreme. But ASIS agents live and work with the same elements of risk. "Which one is more risky?" she asked.

"It's pretty the same," he said. "Where we go, it doesn't matter what badge you carry, if you're caught, you're dead. Or at least, you hope to be." She felt fear gripped the base of her neck, squeezing tighter.

"What's the difference between the two?" she asked.

"I trust the men in the Regiment with my life, when we go, we go as one. 'One in. All in' is our unofficial motto. They will only leave me when I'm dead. If I'm wounded, my mate will stay with me to the death."

"I would much prefer for someone to have your back," she said.

"Pixie, it goes both ways. If my mate is wounded, I would stay with him to the death."

She smiled bravely, "At least you won't be alone, I'd much prefer for someone to have your back."

"In which case, I will sign my extension."

The decision would have a huge impact on their lives. Belle steeled herself. Tears pooled at her eyes, bright blue irises gleamed in the light, "I love you," she said. He didn't say anything, he was rendered speechless.


	34. (Almost) Nothing Hidden

**(Almost) Nothing Hidden**

The mood was slowly turning sombre but he wouldn't let anything ruin this evening for them. He flicked her with bath water, she shrieked and put her hands up defensively. He laughed at her, pulled her close with one arm and bodily lifted her into the bath with the other.

"Ops," he said, "You're a little over dressed for bath time."

Their first evening in Sydney was spent with a lot of loving and much talking. In bed, after what Bryce called a session of acrobatic, Belle asked if he would prefer a boy or a girl given a choice. "If I have a choice, I want a girl just like you. Too many boys in my family. You?"

"Um, a girl because we already have Rajo but I wouldn't mind someone like you."

"Oh, you'll regret that," he said, the skin around his eyes creased with laugh lines.

"Yeah, you're right... so may be not."

"Have you thought of a name?"

She turned on her side, rested her face on her palm, "Savannah, Savannah Mabo Cameron."

"I like that very much." They drifted off to sleep fairly soon after the baby conversation. Before succumbing to deep sleep, Belle half expected to have nightmares but she didn't.

It was the smell of frying bacon that woke her up, she tip-toed to the kitchen. His back was turned to her so she watched him silently as he whip up a full hot breakfast. "Good morning, Pixie."

Walking towards him, she said, "How'd you know I was here?" He pointed to the glass splash back on the wall that showed her reflection. She smiled even as she wondered how she missed that. He turned around with a plate for her, "For my heroine-warrior-princess."

He plated another one for himself, "I better teach you a bit of surveillance and counter-surveillance techniques. You have very little situational awareness."

"You mean you're going to teach me to become paranoid." He wagged a fork at her and said, "One day it'll save your life and then you'll be forever indebted to me."

He flicked a TV remote on, a small kitchen counter top set turned on to the 24 hour news channel. The Cairo bombing was still top of the news. At last count, 50 have died, 35 of them foreigners, tourists from the USA, UK, France, Germany, and a lone Australian.

She observed him closely. He turned down the volume till it was mute but he watched the video feeds with great interest. He ate without looking at his food once, the eyes glued to the gruesome scenes on the screen. His brows knitted, grabbed the remote, pressed record, then turned his attention to her. "Eat," he said, "We're going to have a busy day.

"What did you do that for?"

"What did I do?"

"Turned off the sound...?"

"'Cause they don't know jack shit, so I don't listen to commentaries."

After breakfast, he showed her a hidden panel under the kitchen sink, in it were wads of money, different currencies, held together with rubber bands. He took the Australian dollars out and gave it to her. "How much money is in there?"

"Enough to go on the run on, but not comfortably, I'm afraid." He replaced the panel back. "If something happens to me and you feel at risk, I need to know you're looked after." He scooted over, "Try removing the panel." She was able to work it easily, removing and replacing the cover back on.

"It's going to be a busy day, let's get ready." As they were getting dressed, he gave her two sets of key codes. The first one for the main door and the second for the unit itself. He made her repeat them and asked her to make a mnemonic device to help her remember the codes even after many years. She came up with two very crudely funny ones that was so totally out of character it cracked him up, "Totally triple X, Mrs Cameron."

At precisely 09:30 hours, they ducked into a bank where he added her as an account owner to one he has had for years, and added her as co-owner of a deposit box. Then they went to see a property conveyancer who would apply to the Land Titles Office to add her as co-owner of the Paddington unit.

When they left the conveyancer's office, she asked, "Why are you doing this?"

"What do you mean why? You're my wife, everything I own is yours. Everything." He kissed her, smiled, "Now we go shopping for you."

"I have more than I need," she said.

"Pixie, a safe house is only a safe house if everything you need is there, you have nothing. You came with nothing. We have to get you everything you can potentially need." She sighed, said "Ok" in a way akin to being asked to have an appendectomy.

"I didn't think it was possible to find a woman who didn't like shopping," he said.

They walked to the bus stop along Oxford St for the Sydney CBD but her eyes caught sight of a St Vincent de Paul second hand store, she pulled him in, "Here?" he said askance.

"You'd be surprised what you'll find in there... great buys," she said excitedly.

Paddington being part of a rich consumer society that is Sydney's Eastern suburbs, most of the donated goods were good quality designer rags, many new with their tags still on. He found a section that displayed old magazines and books, he parked himself there while she shopped. Every one and then, he'd glance up from his reading to look for her.

An hour later, she was done. "Darling, let's go," she said. She was carrying six full bags. He took them off her, "You're not supposed to carry heavy stuff," he said.

Her eyes rolled heaven ward, "Mr Cameron, I'm pregnant, not invalidated."

"Yeah, but it's early days so strictly no lifting." She shook her head.

They walked back home with the shopping, "So how much did these cost you?"

"$120."

"That's all? You're a clever shopper."

She keyed in the codes and even remembered to wipe her prints off the keypad of the unit, it earned her a kiss. "Good job, Trooper Cameron."

He left the bags on the couch and said, "Show me."

She showed him a pale green, signature sleeveless lace dress by Collette Dinnigan. He smiled approvingly. Then a tailored suit by Country Road. A white business shirt by Akira Isogawa. A full skirt by Dolce and Gabbana. And pajamas by Peter Alexander. A tote bag by Esprit.

She joyfully laughed. "Never owned so many signature clothes in all my life," she said. He was happy she was very happy. This is what being in love is, he thought. That you're happy for someone to be happy.

The other three bags were for the unit. Decorations to give it an ambiance of homeliness. But the best one was an elegant oil painting of a ballerina lacing her pointe shoe. She showed it to him, "Ta da!"

He inspected it closely, and wondered if she might have found a lost treasure."Where do you want it?"

"There," she said, pointing to the wall. He went to the laundry and retrieved a tool box from one of the closets. Together, they worked out where to hang it. Done, they stood side by side admiring their handiwork, "Surprising how one little painting could change a whole room," he said. He looked down the top of her head, "Surprising how one Pixie can change my life." She looked up and met his eyes, "I love you."

This time, he was ready with an answer, "I love you more." She embraced him. It encouraged a rush of sexual urges, but he kissed her and moved her an arm's length away. "Right, I have an appointment. Do you want to stay here or explore the City?"

"Explore, of course."

"Ok, let's go. After you."

Together, they caught the bus to the City, got off at Circular Quay. They went to the Tourist Information booth and armed Belle with everything under the sun to help her navigate the City's tourist attractions. She waved bye and happily skipped by herself towards the Sydney Opera House.

He watched her back until she was out of sight, he flagged a taxi and asked to be taken to "Holsworthy Barracks", home to the 17 Signals Regiment, 2nd Commando Regiment (2 Cdo Regt), 6th Aviation Regiment and the 1st Health Support Battalion (1HSB).

On 4 August 2009, four men from Melbourne, Victoria plotted to storm the barracks with automatic weapons, shoot army personnel until they were killed or capture. The men were allegedly connected with the Somali-based terrorist group al-Shabaab. After this incident, the then Prime Minister Kevin Rudd ordered the Government to review security at all military bases.

The 6th Aviation Regiment is one of the Australian Army's three Army Aviation regiments. It was formed to command the Army's special forces helicopter squadron and its surveillance aircraft squadron. Banjo "Black Kite" Cameron has just qualified to move his ass to join these rare breed of men. Special Forces helicopter pilots are the best of the best in the business. These pilots constantly fly over a barrage of RPGs, and high velocity, high powered guns, inserting SF personnels, resupplying military hardware, evacuating the injured and risking their lives to support land based troopers when they are pinned down, surrounded and fighting for their survival.

But Bryce was not going to Holsworthy to see Banjo. He was going to have his contract amended. His C.O., a former SAS who passed selection the same year he did meet him in the Barracks. "So, you've made up your mind old boy."

"Boss, yeah but I need to insert a clause. Add it to the contract and I'll sign right here, right now. I want to be on leave last two weeks of August and first two weeks of September. I'm not missing the birth of my child if it kills me."

Bryce was aware that the Special Air Service Regiment didn't bow to pressure or demands but this time it was different. He didn't asked to re-enlist, they asked him so its the least they could do. If the Regiment didn't agree he was going to toss the contract in the bin and be done with it. To his surprise, the C.O. backed him. He said far too many good men have missed the birth of their children. "I'm one of them, missed three births in a row. I didn't have a chance to meet the little ones till they were six months to a year old."

He called Belle while he waited, it went to voice mail. He absent-mindedly tossed the phone between his hands, refusing to let dark scenarios play in his head. Half an hour later, he tried again. Gone to voice mail. The C.O. popped out to the corridor shortly after that, "Wolf, it's ready.

He scanned the contract quickly, it clearly stated the leave proviso, he signed and was given a copy to keep. They shook hands and he was away. He flagged down a passing army jeep, "Mate, take me to the gate will you."

"Banjo?"

"Nope. I'm Bryce. The better one," he said.

The Navy Pilot laughed, "Hop in, did you come to see Banjo?"

"Nah. But if you see him tell him I said 'hello'."

At the gate, he called Belle again, this time she answered, he let out a sigh of relief. "What's wrong?" she said.

"Nothing, I tried your phone twice it went to voice mail, I was starting to worry."

She laughed, "Silly. I went to see a ballet performance at the Opera House, that's all."

"I'm ducking home then I'm meeting you in the City. Find your way to the Queen Victoria Building. 15:00 hours, Trooper Cameron. Don't be late."

"Yes, Sir," she said laughing. The sound of her laughter lingered in his mind after they disconnected the call. Maybe he shouldn't have re-signed but it's too late for regret or ambivalence. The ink has dried.

He looked at the papers in his hands, and felt his heart pushed and pulled in every direction. His only consolation was, for once, he was honest with her, and she supported him whole-heartedly.

_But at what cost?_


	35. Revelation

_Author's Note: We know very little of Belle... here's a reveal._

_I also edited this chapter to better reflect the sentiment with which the character Bryce said, "Don't worry about it, Canadian men don't know shit."_

_That specific line was spoken in a manner that was __tongue-in-cheek. It was not meant to cause offence. While most readers appreciated the nuance by which it was said, I also understand why some took it badly. I have now edited this in order to not cause further offence to anyone. I sincerely apologise to those I may have hurt. No malice was intended._

**Revelation**

Fifteen minutes to rendezvous Belle arrived at the Market St entrance of the Queen Victoria Building. Bryce was waiting for her across the street, concealed behind a recessed wall accommodating an automatic teller machine. She checked her time piece, it was nearly three pm, but QVB was huge and he didn't say where they were meeting. She called him but it rang out.

Bryce checked his own time, 10 minutes to rendezvous. Belle debated with herself, stay by the entrance or go in. He smiled to himself when Belle went off to the side to get out of people's way, put her shopping down between her legs and waited patiently reading a book. At precisely 15:00 hours, he crossed the road among a throng of pedestrians and stood next to her. Silently. She kept reading oblivious to his presence. He timed it, it took 30 seconds for her to notice he was standing next to her.

"Darling," she exclaimed, "How long have you been standing there?"

"Half a minute. I could have been a kidnapper you know." She made a face, he kissed her. "But you scored big points for staying put, not wandering around like a lost puppy." He bent down to pick up her shopping, "What's in here?"

She hooked her arm around his and said, "Socks, shoes and undies."

He stopped suddenly, "Undies?" he said in mocked horror. "Didn't I say essentials only?" She turned bright read in embarrassment when a couple of women turned in their direction. She slapped his arm and said, "Stop it, you're incorrigible." He was still laughing as he led her to an Italian wine bar.

They settled down to a table of his choice, ordered the establishment's traditional high tea. She gasped in wide-eyed wonder at the mouth-watering servings of scones and preserves, finger sandwich selection, sweet and savoury petite gateaux. Then, of course, their choice of tea to wash it down. "This is just awesome," she said.

Bryce had plans of taking her around the City's secret passages but a call from Banjo canceled it. "What the hell's wrong with you, you came to Hols and you didn't even seek me out. You hurt my feelings." The older Cameron just laughed.

"Seriously bro, ya have time to catch up?"

"Sure, remember my Paddington unit?"

"Remind me." Bryce gave him the address. "I'll be there for dinner. It better be a good one."

"That was Banjo, Pixie. He's coming over for dinner." A couple of hours later, they left the wine bar stuffed full with afternoon delight. "I don't think I'll be having dinner tonight," she said.

He hailed a cab, got off at a supermarket 200 metres from their little place so Bryce could restock his pantry and fridge. As soon as they reached home, they split up. He headed straight to the kitchen, poured a glass of red for himself, turned on the radio to a FM station that played classical music and started preparing dinner. She gathered her op shop designer rags to wash in the laundry, then she disappeared into the bedroom.

When she hasn't returned to join him after nearly half an hour, he poured a glass of sparkling mineral water for her, on approach he saw her with her back to him in an arabesque position, standing on one leg with the other leg extended straight back; on her feet were new pink pointe shoes.

He reclined against the wall, unobtrusively observant. She moved like a graceful gazelle. She stood holding her back straight and her head high, her arms relaxed in front of her, slightly extended away from her body. Her feet were turned out completely. The heels touched each other and the feet face outward, forming a straight line.

She held both arms low in front of her body, elbows slightly bent. Then she slowly raised and extended her arms to the side, the elbows positioned lower than the shoulders and the wrist lower than the elbow. He observed the placement of her arms and the dainty fingers. She kept her shoulders down, her neck long and her chin up. His eyes fell on the small of her neck, he so wanted to hold it in his hand but he stayed nailed where he was.

Going into the third position, she moved her right foot in front, raised her left arm over her head, slightly forward. She rounded her right arm to the side at belly button height, then gradually raised it to the side, the palm of her hand turned forward. Then she switched gracefully to the other side.

Moving in time with the music, the arms working opposite the legs, she moved her right foot in front and brought her left arm to her front, slightly rounded at the height of her chest. She raised her right arm above your head, slightly rounded. Switching to the other side, she completed the first four of the five arm movements.

For the fifth movement, she rounded her arms over her head, elbows slightly bent, her hands about six inches apart, palms facing inward.

He could tell, though he wasn't a dance critic, that she was an accomplished dancer. _She must miss it._ The oil painting, the ballet performance at the Opera House has brought the fire back in her belly. He reflected on the fact that at Gregory Downs her passion for dance would be starved. It hit him hard - the sacrifices she has made to support him to become the best he could be.

She piroutted, her arms streched to the side. She stopped suddenly when she spied him spying on her. He smiled, walked in and gave her the flute with mineral water. "You're beautiful," he said. Now was his chance, he clasped the small of her neck and drew her close for a kiss.

The oven timer dinged, they went to the kitchen together to see what he's cooking. He got busy, she watched him do his thing.

"Why did you stop dancing?"

"I had to... I was on the run from that maniac," she said.

"Do you miss it?"

"Sometimes. When I hear classical music, when I see it on TV or when I'm frustrated or sad or angry. Ballet always calmed me down. After high school, I had a choice of going to a dance academy or completing a degree. I chose the latter."

"And you took it obsessively. Five degrees right," he said exaggerating.

She laughed, "Just three."

"How can someone so gifted pick someone like me?"

"Hey, don't knock yourself down, you're more clever than most guys I've met, not to mention so yummy."

"Don't lie to me, you only like me for my body."

"You're so silly."

He closely inspected her for a second, then said, "Pixie, tell me about you."

She sat on a bar stool, raised a leg on it and hugged her knee. She looked very vulnerable. But that exterior appearance he knew belied a strong interior. "My Dad was a mechanical engineer, my Mom dabbled in Quantum Physics."

"Dabbled?"

She smiled. "She was a scientist. They went away for their 20th anniversary, it was their second honeymoon. On the way home from the airport they were killed in a car accident. Police were waiting for me outside the house as I arrived home from University. I was 18, legally an adult so no one offered to help with anything apart from bringing me home-cooked meals. I had to do the funeral arrangements, made decisions I wasn't prepared to face alone. My grandparents on both sides were gone. Dad had a brother who lived in the U.S, and Mom's siblings were all in Ireland. It was very traumatic because I had to put my grieving on hold to deal with the aftermath of their death. I think it was a couple of years before I started feeling the loss."

"I'm sorry," he said with sincerity. "I don't know what it's like to be really alone having grown up with a mob and worked with an even bigger mob. It must have been hard."

She contemplated what he said, "Maybe life was preparing me for you." It was an insightful conclusion but no, he wouldn't let her be alone in life again.

"Maybe. But I promise you that you will always be surrounded by family. Even when I'm not there. There will always be people backing you up."

"Thank you," she said teary-eyed. "Anyway, my parents have set me up with their life insurance. It paid for the mortgage so at least I have a home of my own. There was enough left over to live on and pay for the costs of earning my degrees. I invested the rest so I was quite ok."

She reached out to touch his hand, he stopped chopping the parsley. "That reminds me, it's time to sell my house in Toronto."

"Don't. Keep it. You don't know what might happen, it's good to have something to fall back on."

"I suppose so, it gives me rental income which I've not yet accessed since coming here. I'd like to put it in the farm. You have plans but it needs money to make it happen."

He shook his head, "No."

"Is that pride speaking?"

"No, you have my word, if we need it, I'll ask."

"Promise?" He nodded then he pried on. "So, you've been mostly alone?"

"Yeah, pretty much. No one was really interested, hardly anyone asked me out. Honestly, the first and last was at the Senior Prom, the male class nerd asked the female class nerd. The female class nerd said 'yes'. But it so boring we left the party, laid on the ground, counted the stars and talked about the workings of the universe."

"Ah, but nothing practical like navigating using the stars," he teased.

She covered her face; and in her defense she said, "It didn't sound as interesting as black holes."

She looked at him dreamily, "I can't believe you married me. Back home, no one was ever interested."

He laughed, and made a tongue-in-cheek comment, "Don't worry about it, Canadian men don't know shit. They don't know a good sheila if it was staring them in the face. If you grew up here, you'd probably not even bothered with me. I'd have to fight off a crowd."

"You're funny," she said, taking it not just with a grain of salt but a whole heap of it. After all, his sister Billy married a marvellous Canadian guy.

"Don't change the topic... go on."

"There's nothing else to tell, I led a boring life compared to yours."

"Don't knock yourself," he said sincerely, "Going through life mostly alone, that's a tough gig. Most people would have smoked, drank or inhaled themselves through it. You came through it a whole person, that's more than heroic." She was very touched at his words. Then the doorbell rang, "Banjo's here."

"I'll go," she said. She jumped off the stool on pointed toes and danced her way out of the unit. Bryce smiled as the Pixie that changed his life for the better disappeared out the door.

While she was out, the black phone rang out loud. He picked it up, "Wolf." His face turned to stone. _Bad news always come in waves._

He closed the phone down just as Banjo and Belle were coming in, joking and laughing. He determined to himself it would be a great evening of laughter, music, stories and good food. The world can end tomorrow, he'd be fine with that.


	36. The Calm Before the Storm

**The Calm Before the Storm**

The evening with Banjo was a hoot. The younger Cameron was a first class larrikin; funny, witty and outlandish. He has the flair for the dramatics and the musical; his story-telling involved a lot of hand gestures and punctuated with sound effects.

At times she was just an eye witness rather than a participant. She observed that the brothers weren't shy about being touchy feely with each other, but it came in the guise of contact sport. Hard thumping, arm wrestling, head locking, chest puffing and lifting each other off the ground. At one point, she feared the worse when Banjo had Bryce pinned to the ground in an awkward position. She anxiously put a stop to it, "Stop, you're hurting him." She stood over them wide-eyed. The men looked up, saw fear registered on her face, looked at each others disheveled selves and seen how they must appear to her. They released each other quickly, Banjo said, "Sorry."

Bryce said, "You'll get used to it. Mum did."

Banjo concurred, "Yeah, she did, after like 30 years." The men laughed uproariously recalling the many scary scenes Sue lived through. She shook her head but thought if Sue could survive them these many years, there's hope for her, too.

The siblings hardly ever see each other but when they do so, they packed everything in it. The ribbing was relentless; sometimes she thought they would come to blow over an indelicate snide remark but nothing fazed the men.

At 22:00 hours, the neighbour next door took a broom handle to the wall, a signal to cut the racket. The men stopped abruptly, settled down and begun the serious business of sharing each others news. "So what were you doing at Hols?"

Bryce remembered the contract, she called Belle over, "Pixie, come sit with me." She came over to serve hot tea to cap the evening. Setting the tray down, she folded one leg under her, and sat next to Bryce, "Why? What is it?"

He handed her the signed contract, "Page 7, paragraph 5."

She flipped to the page, read it then joyfully hug his neck.

"What was that about?" asked Banjo, his brow wrinkling in curious anticipation.

"I've signed an extended contract with the Regiment. Two years, that's all."

"Fuck me," was all the younger could say.

"It's a better outfit than ASIS, for me anyway."

"You bet," said Banjo. "So when do you deploy?"

"Operationally? Probably as early as next week. But tomorrow I've gotta attend an intelligence briefing."

"That soon, eh."

Bryce nodded then shifted the topic to Banjo, "So you passed Special Forces selection." Black Kite, the often mislabeled Cameron, nodded. "It's really different working with the best of the best." Special Forces Units the world over employ only the best support staff. The best pilots, signalers, communications specialists, despatchers, loaders, mechanics, store men. The best of the best from top to tail, without exception. It's meritocracy at its best. Pretenders wouldn't last a day.

The infamous Australian Black Hawk training incident burned into Bryce's consciousness. "Be careful, lad, it can be really tricky and dangerous up there."

Banjo laughed, "You sound like Mum."

Belle added, "You can talk."

At 23:00 hours, Banjo said, "I better get back to the barracks."

"I'll walk you down," said Bryce. They all got up, Banjo picked Belle off the ground like a little doll, kissed her on the cheeks and said, "Look after yourself, Bella." He could have meant beautiful but she knew it was Banjo showing his affection for her. Australians affectionately add an 'a' or an 'o' after names of people they feel for. _Singo, Tommo, Jono, Fredo, Samo, Rafo, Popa_.

The men left soon after. Belle read the contract again and wondered if she was ready for a long separation again. The first time was really, really hard. If not for her adopted son she would have been an emotional wreck but what now? Rajo's in school. Sue's in Malanda. _Perhaps he was right, we should have put the farm on the market_. But she quickly doused that stupid idea with petrol and lit it with a match. Selling the farm wasn't an option. Not for her. **Never**.

Her Irish tenacity held strong. She came from a blood line of people who have survived the great potato famine, poverty, civil war and diaspora to the four corners of the world. "I'll more than survive it," she said to herself, holding the contract close to her chest. She smiled, "At least, this time I'm not being treated like a pet piggy and fed hogwash."

She was clearing up when Bryce returned, "Go to bed, I'll finish up here."

"No, we'll do it together." It was a moment of domestic bliss she would imprint in her mind. Then they went to bed.

Morning broke through the sheer curtain, she heard water running in the shower. Remembering that he was going to a meeting, she got up and fixed him breakfast. He came out attired in Bulgari. She wolf whistled. Laugh lines adorned his face, and a two-day stubble. The ruggedly handsome operative took her visual assessment in stride, locked an arm around her neck, breathe down it, and said, "I prefer to eat you." But he tucked into the breakfast she prepared and complimented her very cute Peter Alexander pajamas.

"What's your plans for today?" he inquired.

"I'm taking the ferry to Manly," she said. "I might do the Manly to Spit Bridge walk."

"That's a long walk, have sensible shoes?"

"Yeah, I bought a pair of hiking boots yesterday."

He checked the time, then the whole James Bond image flushed down the gurgler. He was wearing a disgracefully battered G-shock wrist watch. It gave her an idea to buy him a new time piece. Reading her mind, he said, "I love it. I've had it for many years."

"It shows," she said grinning. She couldn't get over the fact he seemed oblivious to the fact that there was something wrong with the picture he was presenting. "Do you realise that wearing that watch with your current ensemble, that it's all wrong?"

Hands on heart he said, "But eccentric millionaire is my cover. So everyone should just live with it, I'm not parting with my G."

She didn't buy it for one minute, she was still going to get him that new watch.

"I better go, have fun and don't stray too far."

"Go, bye."

She looked out the balcony, it was a wonderfully sunny day. Perfect for the great outdoors. She put on a black tee from Bryce's wardrobe, matched it with the floor-length black skirt she bought from the op shop, hiking boots on her feet. She accessorised her outfit with a pale pink silk tie she used as a sash to gather the loose shirt around her. Checking herself in the mirror, she was pleased with the result, _Who would have thought black and pink go together,_ and her suede hiking boots completed a SOHO package.

Satisfied, happy, and excited to play the tourist, she grabbed her tote bag and was away for the day. She wouldn't worry about tomorrow, tomorrow would take care of itself.

Bryce entered a secured building somewhere downtown, known as the 'Bunker'. Punching a series of numerals later, he was in the company of men and women from Military Intelligence. His C.O. was in attendance.

The operatives and the spooks didn't usually gel very well, mainly because there was such a chasm in the way they do business. Modern day spooks are so technology focused, they've lost the ability to use their eyes and ears on the ground. Too busy listening to chatters, no one is left to mind the store. Too busy looking at satellite imagery, no one is inspecting the sites to check if it is genuine and not just smoke and mirrors.

At 40, Bryce was classed by the mostly young geeks as a museum piece but this museum piece could teach them a thing or two about common sense. The subject of the Cairo bombing was raised first. One young gun said, "The chatters are rife that one of the mastermind is an Australian. Home grown terrorist."

He languidly butted in, "Has anyone seen the news video feeds?"

Everyone said yes, one even gave him a lop-sided smile, "Can't miss it mate, it's on a 24-hour loop."

"And not one of you noticed anything hinky?

A bespectacled young lady answered defensively, "Look, we went through it frame by frame, there was nothing to indicated the bomber was there."

"You sure about that?"

She straightened up and said, "100%."

Bryce played several news feed, mostly taken from mobile phone recordings of witnesses. Then he came to the one he was seeking. He gave them a running commentary, he froze the recording frame by frame. "At this time, a tourist was making a recording of his young family standing next to their Egyptian guide. A man ran passed in front, and was caught in his view finder; seconds later, an explosion was captured from the left side of the frame. Meanwhile the man who was seen running away from the bomb site before the explosion can now be seen at the right end of the frame." He stopped, making sure everyone was following his commentary.

Continuing on, he said, "The bomb went off, he stopped running. He turned back to the sight of the blast, then smiled. Ask yourself, what was he smiling about?"

He turned his attention to a someone almost half his age, "Can you zoom in? Get a close up of that face."

"Yes Sir."

The man they should have been looking for stared back at them. The face of a smiling terrorist. "I bet, if you match his image using facial recognition software, you'll pinged him."

His C.O., whom in private he only addressed as 'Jacko' patted him on the back. "Good job, Camo." Turning his attention to the young guns, he said, "Run it."

"Camo, come with me." The two SAS mates went into another secure office for a catch up.

Belle took a seat on the upper deck of the Manly ferry, taking photos of the lovely Sydney harbour and the open sea. She met several Canadians who, like her, have fallen massively in love with the City they variously described as "young", "fun," and "gorgeous".

She got off the ferry and started walking down the esplanade towards Manly Beach. Her eyes caught sight of an internet café. Impulsively, she went in and paid for an hour. There was another email waiting for her, she checked the date, a week ago. She opened it, it was her contact begging for an answer, chastising her for not being forthright. _'You said you have a definite answer by January, it's now mid-Feb.'_

Whatever possessed her, she replied, _'I'm in. What's the job on?'_

She was surprised when there was an instantaneous reply, _'Fantastic. Give me your bank account detail, you'll be paid in four equal installments. The first will be in your account in 24 hours.' _The fact that the contact was so eager to pass her the assignment should have raised a red flag but it didn't. But out of curiosity, she asked who the client was, the contact was evasive. He side-stepped the query by asking how to send the data and in what form. _ 'Wait for further instructions' _she replied. She called Bryce who answered quickly.

"You OK?"

"Yeah, um... darling, a former contact asked me to do some forensic work and I accepted..."

"Ooo-k," he said.

"He wants to know how to send me the thumb drive."

Bryce gave her the post box number in Townsville, "tell him to send it there and we'll collect it on the way home."

"Thanks, I love you."

"Me, too."

Jacko smiled, "Wife Cameron, I take it?"

"Yeah, I'm a lucky man."

Minutes later, Jacko's desk phone buzzed, he picked it up. The C.O. beamed, "We have a match."

They went back to the Bunker where young guns were busy collating information on Abdul Shakim's movements since departing Australia for the Middle East. He was, in fact, Alexander Jones-Fry. A recent Muslim convert. Sydney-born and educated.

One geek piped up, "But what I don't get is why no one has claimed responsibility for it?"

Bryce turned to him and said, "Because it's a dry run. That smile was one of triumph. He's feeling pumped. It worked; and it his mind, it could work again."

"But why Egypt?"

The man they called museum piece taught them another lesson, "Because it's where you could kill Americans, Brits, Canadians, Aussies, Germans, French, Kiwis. Committing terrorism in first world countries is getting harder and harder due to stricter security measures, so they wait until they're out of their own back yard and kill them there. The locals are disposable collateral damage. These heartless bastards don't care even for people they say they fight for. I want that bastard," he said. "Find him and I'll do the rest."

His business done, he left the Bunker and rang his wife. "I'm on Manly Beach, reading a book."

"Wait for me, I'll be there soon." An hour later, he was sitting next to her on the sandy beach.

They spent three more days in Sydney until Belle clamoured to go home, "I miss Gregory Downs," she said. "And I want to see Rajo."

"Your wish is my command." He took it as a very good sign that in spite of being in one of the best looking cities in the world, his wife missed home.

At the Airport while waiting for their plane, Belle went to check her online banking account with the Bank of Toronto, a fresh deposit of US$50,000 was sitting in her account. "Mother of God," she said.

"What was that?" asked Bryce.

_What kind of assignment paid that kind of money?_ she thought grimly. Her blues stared at her husband who had a sudden inkling of trouble.

_Shit_, he thought. _Trouble better not be coming down on her head while I'm away on assignment of my own._


	37. On the Run Again!

**On the Run Again!**

The Wolf noticed her Bank of Toronto online banking page was still on screen, he reached over and logged her out. Seeing what he just did, she erased the cookies and browsing history of the computer's brain for good measure. Then the paranoid Mr Wolf took matters one step futher, he sat on the table and discreetly disconnected the power from behind the CPU, wiggling the plug out of its socket.

He took her by the elbow and guided her towards the wall, opposite the Lounge's door. Sliding down against the wall to be more level with her height, he pulled her close to his chest and whispered, "Pixie, exactly what did you do in the three hours I didn't have my eyes on you?" The affection in his eyes betrayed the fact he didn't blame her for their present predicament, but he needed to know what on earth happened. She related her online conversation with the contact in as much detail as she could remember.

"Who is this person you keep referring to as your contact?"

"Bilal Bhutto, US-born, Pakistani descent. He's the Chief of Staff for California Senator Feinstein. But before he joined the Senator's staff, he was a forensic accountant like me."

"Who's the client? _Supposedly_?"

"He didn't say." Her husband was unimpressed, so she quickly added, "But I did ask. He didn't answer."

"Did you just assume he was passing on a referral to you?"

"Yeah," she answered apprehensively.

"What does the Senator do?"

"Besides representing the interest of the State of California?" she asked.

"Yeah, besides that..." he said as he kept his eyes peeled to the door. He didn't like the look of the last four men who trickled in separately in the last five minutes.

"I suppose I can Google her."

"Do that Pixie and hurry."

She powered up her 4G iphone, seconds later she paled and said, "She's a member of the United State's Senate Appropriations Subcommittee on Defense." Two words struck him: appropriations and defense. Two words that when put together in one sentence could mean death depending on context. He exhaled, she took it to mean _that_ wasn't good news.

He whispered, "Four spotters just walked in."

Thoughtlessly, she turned her head to see for herself, the Wolf quickly palmed her face back and said, "Didn't you just hear me say I spotted four spotters?"

"I just want to see for myself."

"Jesus, woman, you will get us killed. Put a lid on your curiosity, that's how the cat died."

He kissed the top of her head, and stayed in that position as he scanned their surroundings with his eyes. Three were the epitome of professionalism. Prepared. Knew their stuff. And could obviously handle themselves. But the fourth and younger guy gave the game away; an eager beaver newbie on possibly his first field assignment. Mr Trying Hard glanced down at his phone device, then scanned the gathered crowd, his eyes lingering and studying every women; a very rookie mistake.

The other three clearly didn't expect to see them at the Airport. But there's no mistake where they were headed, Townsville. _That_ _parcel has to disappear without a trace_.

Bryce continued to interrrogate Belle, "Pixie, how did he contact you?"

"Through a very old email account, I've had it since I was 15."

"Does he know you're married?"

"No."

"What does he know of your personal life?"

"We've never talked about anything personal..."

"Good."

The men sat separately. He waited until their guard were down. "Let's go." He shielded Belle with his torso and led her to the disabled toilet. "Lock it, I'll knock three times." He waited for a faint click then he went to see the Lounge attendant. He passed her their boarding passes and presented his Platinum Q card, "My friend's not feeling well, we won't be boarding today's flight... and we have no check-in luggage."

Simply not boarding wasn't an option, the air crew and the ground staff would hold the flight until they were found or all checked-in luggage were hauled out of the plane's cargo section and rescreened for explosives. He needed the men out of their hair, grounding the flight would be problematic to say the least. After verifying their names against the passenger checked-in list, she flashed him a charming, flirty smile, "Hope your friend feels better."

"Thanks," he said with a wink.

His exit strategy was to keep it simple. With Belle pregnant, he has to eliminate any need for stunts and dramatic chases. He knocked three times on the disabled toilet's door. She open it slightly, he walked in and locked the door behind him,"We'll wait it out here." She nodded and felt the need to apologise, "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it. It's ok." He stroked her face to reassure her.

No long after, the announcement for boarding was made. He opened the door and peeped through a crack, two of the spotters were among the first to queue, two remained seated. A pincher movement.

The wait and exit strategy would have worked perfectly but for a man in a wheelchair heading their way. _Fuck_. They couldn't afford a scene, two of the men haven't boarded yet. "Pixie, we're going. Ready?"

She nodded, he smiled. "Follow me and don't look around, ok?" To her surprise, he messed up his hair and untucked her white shirt from her skirt before opening the door of the disabled toilet. The man in a wheelchair was just five feet away now. Possessing a satisfied smile on his face, he exited, followed by Belle. As they both passed, the man said, "Lucky bastard."

The two men overheard the cheeky comment and smiled as they locked eyes. By the time they realised the couple wasn't boarding it was too late, Bryce and Belle have exited the Lounge. Mr Trying Hard turned to the experienced operative, "Did you have a good look at her? Do you think that might be her?"

"Don't know," he replied. "Relax. She'll have to collect the parcel from the post office, that's where we'll get her."

Navigating the corridors of the departure area, Bryce didn't skipped a beat, he dialled a number. A soft spoken voice answered, "Hello, this is Emily. Townsville Australia Post."

"Em, Bryce here, how are you?"

"Good, hun. And you?"

"I'm good. Em, I need you to check something for me, if that's ok?"

"Sure, what it is?"

"Have you received a parcel for Belle Gallagher?"

"Let me check..."

"I'll wait."

The manager checked his post box, it wasn't there. She returned to him, "Not in your box yet but a fresh bunch of parcels have arrived." One of the staff was recording them down before distribution.

"Em, I need that parcel to disappear without a trace."

"Anything for you, hun."

"Pass it to Jono, urgent." Her son, Jono, worked at the Townsville Army Base in the Support and Logistics department.

"No worries, consider it done. Take care, ok."

"Will do... thanks."

As soon they ended the call Emily asked her staff to mind the counter, "I'll do the sorting." When she found the parcel addressed to Belle Gallagher, she put it in her tote bag and it effectively disappeared without a trace. Next, Bryce called Jono to asked for it to be sent to the Holsworthy Base in care of 4 Squadron, "Mate, addressed it to me."

No questions asked, Jono said, "Consider it done."

Then he called the office of 4 Squadron to let them know he was expecting a parcel from Townsville, "No worries, we'll keep an eye on it for you."

Bryce and Belle walked briskly to the Airport train station to board a train for the City. He led her to a somewhat empty carriage and busied himself sending a lengthy group text message, he included Spike Scarlatti to the group.

Looking over his shoulder, she asked, "What are you doing?"

To satisfy her curiosity he showed her the message, '_Charli3oscarmik3paparom3ooscarmik3indiasi3rra3chod 3lta_'.

"What does it say?"

"Compromised."

"Really?"

"International phonetic spelling combined with Leet speak," he said. "Normally, it would be written down as separate radio phonetic spelling, charlie oscar mike... but I didn't want it to be too easy."

From Central, they changed to a Northbound train, "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," he said. He led her through a labyrinthine concourse up to the countrylink platform and waited for a train that would take them to the township of Brooklyn on the Hawksbury River, north of Sydney.

Seated on the plane en route for Townsville , Mr Trying Hard was bothered. _A couple walked out of the Qantas Lounge. Why?_ And by golly, he was sure she was flame haired and petite. When they get on the ground, he has to tell them of his suspicion.


	38. Strategic Thinking

_Author's Note: If you ever get to Sydney, please visit the Hawkesbury River. It's where the locals who are tired of Manly and Bondi Beach head to. And now you know why._

_The art work accompanying this story is a photo of a marble rock in one of the national parks surrounding the Hawkesbury River. _

**Strategic Thinking**

Bryce glanced at the time piece worn on the inside of his wrist, a habit developed during sniper course. **13:00 hours. ** Time was ticking. Belle anxiously looked at the urban scenery as it flashed past from her window, hands lying protectively over her still non-existent belly bump. He draped a protective arm around her and asked how she was feeling. "I'm ok," she said.

"You're not a very good liar," he said.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, she said, "I won't be able to forgive myself if..."

Bryce quickly assuaged her fears, "Don't go there, nothing's going to happen to them."

Shortly, an SMS came through to Bryce's phone, a coded message from Raf. _'Chocolate and Smarties secured in the cupboard.' _ Bryce smiled and passed on the good news to Belle, "Rafo..," he said, ".. just sayin Rajo, Billy and Mum are in a secure location." A sigh of relief escaped from Belle.

Half an hour later, they disembarked at a train station called 'Hawkesbury River.' The journey was just a little over an hour from the hub of Sydney business district. But the gentle walk from station to the wharf revealed a small town so serene and provincial, she could easily have been transported to a place far more remote and inaccessible. Bryce explained that the Hawkesbury River is a secluded river settlements in one of the world's most beautiful and varied waterways, "perfect for cover and concealment".

Surrounded by National Parks of 200 million year old rugged Hawkesbury Sandstone, dotted with secluded river communities, the River is navigable for over 100 kilometres with 1100 kilometres of foreshore fringe. She marveled at the views. Bush land so thick she could easily have been in the midst of the Daintree. "You'll love it here," he said, "the surrounding National Parks range from rainforests and mangroves to drier open woodlands."

Much later, she would learn that the Ku Ring Gui and Dharug aboriginal tribes had inhabited the river region for many thousands of years. She would eventually get to see rock arts, engraving sites and the tribal names preserved in National Parks surrounding the Hawkesbury River.

She asked him as they neared a rustic cabin, "How do you know of this place?"

"I come here annually to participate in the Canoe classic... well, actually when time permits," he said by way of explanation.

"Hey Camo!" They both turned to the source of the voice. A tanned, well-muscled giant flashed a disarming smile, "What brought you here? And who's this little one?"

The men shook hands firmly before Bryce did the introduction, "Hawko, this is Belle, my wife. Belle, Hawko. He was my training officer and Directing Staff at SAS Selection. He's a mean bastard."

Hawko laughed and dismissed Bryce's comment, he draped an arm on Belle's shoulder and said, "Don't believe a thing he says. He likes to diss me for pay back. I'm a gentle soul with a marshmallow heart." The Wolf killed himself laughing.

Hawko dropped his fishing gear down outside by the door, "So what brought you here?"

Bryce replied, "Do you still have your houseboat?"

"'Course," he said before turning Belle and adding, "The only woman who hasn't divorced me." Married four times, the old-timer has looked after three surviving ex-wives and children, who thanked God were all finally over alimony age. So all that remained of his assets after 30 years of active military service was a touch-and-go oyster farming business, a secluded rustic cabin deep in the Brooklyn bush and a houseboat christened Ginger that has been his pride and joy.

"We'd like to hire it if it's available."

Hawko eyed them, silently assessing the reason behind the request. "Trouble?" Bryce nodded.

"What else can I do to help?"

Belle spoke up this time, "I need a super-fast computer and wireless internet connectivity."

"I can take you to someone who can help but that's about all I can do. I'm a graceful dinosaur as you can see."

Bryce quickly jumped in, "Are you able to take me to him now."

"No worries, just round the block."

Looking at Belle with his eyes, Bryce asked Hawko, "You don't mind?"

"Of course not."

Turning to her, the wolf said, "Pixie, stay here, we'll be back soon."

She wanted to protest but Hawko put a stop to it, "Think of the bubba." His face wrinkled as his eyes danced with good hunour, "I can tell you're carryin'. Been there. Done that," he said. She hesitantly complied, "Can I help myself to tea?"

Hawko thumped his head, "Sorry, I don't have hospitality skills, of course, help yourself to whatever you can find. Let's go, Wolf."

On the climb uphill Bryce disclosed their present predicament. Hawko listened. In the end, he simply said, "You gotta find out what's in that thumb drive. That's your leverage."

"Yeah, I know. And she knows it, too."

They stopped at a spot on a well-trodden path, "Wait here." Hawko beat a path along an overgrown ground of bushland. The Wolf looked down and noticed the only tell-tale sign that there was a secret passage close-by, a five stone pyramid underfoot.

Bryce waited, then heard a familiar whistle. He made a move to join his former T.O. He gasped in amazement. He couldn't help his reaction to it. A single story Mongolian-inspired yurt stood erect over a majestic view of a valley below. Breath-taking. He could easily understand why a geek would turned into a hermit.

He entered the simple wood constructed abode and was blown away at the inspired minimalism. He thought his homestead was minimalist, this one took it to another level. It only had furniture to please one person. A complete absence of clutter. Nothing out of place.

Hawko waved for him to join him, and to his surprise he was a she. A young woman in her mid-20s. "My daughter Grace."

Bryce cheekily said, "You sure you're related?"

Grace smiled when Hawko threatened to throw Bryce to the valley below.

In a voice so soft, she said, "I understand you need a computer, and wireless connection." He nodded.

"Give me a minute." She went behind a door and returned with a generic-looking laptop, "I put them together myself. It's faster than most gizmo you can find. Good luck."

Turning to her father, she said, "Bye, Dad."

It was nothing short of a gentle shoo-off, the men thanked her and left.

On the way downhill, Hawko sensed that Bryce was puzzled so he enlightened him, "I don't know what happened Bryce. She was an out-going girl. Extroverted. A people-person. But five years ago all that changed. Almost overnight she became a recluse. All I know was she went to a party one night and then suddenly she was inside a psychological prison. She wouldn't say why. Wouldn't talk to anyone. It breaks my heart to see her like that. She's my youngest, the Angel I didn't deserve but failed."

"I'm sorry Hawko. Have you ever tried to find out what happened?"

"I have but short of torturing someone to death, no one's talking."

Bryce stopped to face his former T.O., "Give me time, I'll find out for you as long as you think you can handle the truth. It could be ugly and that's why she's keeping it to herself."

The older man's brown eyes bored into Bryce, "I've seen hell on earth Camo... but there's nothing more hellish than not knowing." They shook hands on it. "Consider it done," Bryce said with conviction.

They returned to the cabin and found Belle curled up sleeping on an old sofa that had bigger lumps than a camel. "Poor thing," whispered Hawko. She woke up, raised herself off the couch, and smiled tightly. "I better take you to the houseboat so you can rest properly. Brooklyn has the best and freshest fish and chips, I'll take you there. You need something in you. There's also a small convenience store next to the wharf."

On the way out, Bryce left cash wrapped in old newspaper inside the fridge, next to a bottle of VB. Hawko found it on his return, grateful for a friend's generosity. The cash would go some way to replacing his leaky roof.

The Sydney-Townsville Jetstar flight landed at **14:45 hours**. The four men exited the Airport Terminal in two pairs and headed for a modest pay-by-the-day motel with a pub at ground level, a spitting distance from Townsville Australia Post.

Famished, the first _to-do_ in their action plan was to eat a hearty meal. Grilled T-bone steaks, served with side salad and chips washed down with a bottle of beer each satisfied the men. Mr Trying Hard itched to tell his cohorts his suspicion. "I really think we missed them at Sydney Airport."

"Cut the crap will you," the Team Leader hissed. "The package arrived today. She's gonna get it, if not today, tomorrow."

"But if I'm right, she may not personally collect it, then we're stuffed. Look, we've got people who can hack into the Qantas Lounge security archive. It'll only take them a few minutes. Better safe than sorry, right? Isn't that what you taught me in training?"

The Team Leader nodded, "Point taken."

He contacted a man nicknamed _Eagle _for his ability to spy on people. He was based in a plain suburban house they refer to simply as _The_ _Nest_, situated near Washington D.C. The Eagle went to work and within 15 minutes came back with an urgent message, "You've got problem, Houston."

The men retired to one of the rooms to discuss the problem, on their computer screen was a freeze framed image of Bryce Cameron. Next to this face were typed vital details.

Name: Bryce Mabo Cameron

Height: 6'0 (1.829m)

Weight: Approximately 150lbs (68 kgs)

Alias: _ V_ to boyhood friends. _Cam_o to good friends and casual acquaintances. _Wolf_ to SAS mates and Military Intelligence

Background: Joined the RAF at 17, passed SAS slection at 25. Team Leader, Water-Troop, later rotated and retrained to join the Free-Fall Troop. Currently rumoured to be attached to 4 Squadron.

The TL made a comment in exasperation, "Fucking this guy is SBS, SAS and Pathfinder rolled into one. Eagle, what else did you find out?"

"Not much, but body language suggests he's either the X-ray's lover or bodyguard. Or both." To the predators, the prey was always nameless. She wasn't Belle Gallagher, she's simply referred to as _'X-ray'_. Nothing personal. It's just business.

Mr Cool, second-in-command of the operation said. "Obviously, they're still back in Sydney. So are we able to scramble more people?"

"What! To get one tiny woman and eliminate one bodyguard, you fucking kidding me right?" said Eagle aghast.

"Yeah you're right, how hard could that be? Let's split up. Toby you're coming with me," said the TL. Mr Trying Hard, pleased to be vindicated, eagerly said, "Copy, Boss."

Tapping Mr Cool, "Keep an eye on the Box, see who goes near it."

"On it," he replied, he in turn tapped his partner, Mr Shades, "Let's go."

**15:30 Hours**, Mr Cool got tired of watching foot traffic and decided to pay the post office a visit. Emily greeted him, "What can I do for you?"

"I'm new in Town," he said. "I'm wondering if you have a post box available for hire."

Emily smiled, "Where's that accent from?"

"Oh Canadian," he said. In truth, the operative was American, ex-CIA, trained to speak in a homogenised accent that couldn't be placed.

"Canadian huh," she said. "You guys seemed to be migrating here. Loving the sunshine?"

Mr ex-CIA agent looked at Emily closely, "How many other Canadians have moved here recently?" Before she could reply, she saw Jono walk in through the door, "Excuse me a minute," she said.

"Hey Mum, I've come to collect a parcel for Camo."

Mr Cool sparked up. _Camo? _

Emily rushed out the back and handed a small parcel to Jono. Mr Cool walked out the post office and signaled for Mr Shades to move his ass.

At the car park, both men were ready to pounced on Jono but backtracked when they saw the Army jeep he arrived in idling. A driver and two other passengers were waiting for the young man to exit. _Not a good time._ Mr Cool and Mr Shades held back, they hailed a passing taxi instead, "Follow the Jeep."

"I don't have to follow it, I know where it's going," offered the cab driver.

"Mate, just follow ok."

"Ok, no worries."

It was all pretty uneventful anyway, the Jeep headed straight to Camp. No detours, no unscheduled visits, no side trips.

The second in command contacted Eagle to report in, "The package's inside the Camp. How do we retrieve it?"

Eagle replied, "Head back to Sydney. I suspect the package would be sent there via the Army's internal system. My best bet, Holsworthy Barracks. Wolf has a brother stationed there, Banjo Mabo Cameron. Special Foces helicopter pilot."

**15:30 hours.** Belle and Bryce has settled in nicely in the houseboat. The setting couldn't have been more picture perfect. Brooklyn, an ideal departure point to explore the waterways, and in their case, to navigate along it and to hide among in its many inlets and remote communities. If fate was kind, Belle hoped to swim in its secluded sandy beaches or fish for seafood. Or to discover Wondabyne's Sandstone Sculptural Park.

Hiding in a place of beauty,_ s_he thought was both inspired and ironic at the same time. In these waterways, one with unhindered access to places like Berowra, Cottage Point, Spencer, Wisemans Ferry, St Albans, Windsor and Richmond they would hide; not frolic for fun; meander to escape, and hopefully be safe to sleep on the surface of its bobbing water.

Belle fired up the computer to look for information. She cried tears of despair when she found out that Bilal Bhutto had been murderd. The news report said, it was a mugging gone bad. But she knew better.

Deep down in her heart she knew that a patriotic American was killed for protecting the interest of American taxpayers. Bhutto acted on instinct, because the forensic accountant in him said something's hinky and he ought to do something about it. As their friendship grew, he once told her that because of his heritage, he thought, acted and spoke more American than Americans and even then he was still viewed with some degree of suspicion.

She knew without a doubt he was a decent human being. She couldn't wait to get her hands on that parcel.

Bryce also read the news report and wordlessly comforted his wife.

That night, his black phone rang and danced on the kitchenette's counter. They looked at it. Belle appeared to have seen a ghost. Bryce picked it up, his brain screaming, _Bloody hell!_

With trepidation, he gave his usual mono-syllable answer, "Wolf." He listened intently. She watched for a reaction, her heart thumping against her chest.

_Good God,_ she thought.


	39. Win Some, Lose Some

**Win Some, Lose Some**

She was, in her own estimation, about one hundredth of a second from fainting. She was holding her breath far too long that she was getting oxygen deprived. Then a gorgeous smile spread on his face. She exhaled.

"What did he say?"

"The Yanks and the Brits want to take the lead in Cairo, so I'm staying home... for now." He wasn't sure who was more relieved, him or her. But in case she had any doubts he made it clear he wasn't going to leave her anyway, come what may.

"You have a choice?" she inquired.

"Nope, but I was considering A.W. L. as an option. It's what you guys call AWOL."

"AWOL? But you'll get punished for that right?"

"U hum... but since it's moot and academic... we don't have to discuss it."

Then, from inside his pocket came a familiar song sung in a familiar voice...

_Sunny Day  
Sweepin' the clouds away  
On my way to where the air is sweet _

She giggled, "Are you serious?"

"Rajo recorded it when he was five. I discovered it again when I was deleting old stuff from my computer."

He answered the call. It was Jono. "Mate, I've got it. The Herc leaves at 07:00 hours for Richmond Air Force Base tomorrow. I'll arrange for it to be couriered to Hols Barracks, so you'll get it day after tomorrow."

Bryce couldn't believe what he was hearing, a second stroke of good luck. The planets, he thought, were aligning in their favour. "Jono, Richmond Air Force Base is better. I'll collect it myself. Give me a name."The young man gave him the name of the person in charge of mail at the Richmond RAAF base and the contact number.

"Thanks mate."

"Glad I can help."

He happily pocketed the phone, Richmond is located west of Hawkesbury River waterways.

**16:20 Hours. **Mr Cool and Mr Shades checked out of the motel, headed back to the Airport only to find out there were only two daily Townsville to Sydney flights and they've just missed the last for the day. The nice lady at the customer service desk suggested that if they were in such a hurry, they should fly to Brisbane first. "There are two seats available for the 17:00 flight, arriving in Brisbane at 18:45. Then you can catch the 19:25 flight to Sydney, arriving at 21:00."

"Fine," replied Mr Cool, "Book us."

At precisely **17:00 hours** they were airborne.

Meanwhile, the Team Leader has one overwhelming concern since the Eagle told him where the parcel was likely to be headed. An aerial view from Google Earth showed that the military facility that was Holsworthy Barracks, was nothing but a patch of massive cleared land in the middle of freaking nowhere surrounded by thick bush land. He couldn't understand what was wrong with Australians. Every conceivable installations seems to be in the bloody bush, smacked bang in the middle of no man's land.

It was one thing for the parcel to be collected by Bryce himself, that would be awesome. One .9mm bullet in the right place would solve the problem; and once they have the thumb drive, she would no longer pose a threat to them.

_What if the parcel is going to be be delivered to them instead? _It wasn't humanly possible to follow every personnel going out of the Barracks.

_Worst of all, what if the brother flies it out in a helicopter?_ The scenarios that played on his mind grew ever more frustrating. _We need a break._

"What we need, Boss, is a leverage?"

The TL turned to his young sidekick, "There's hope for you yet," he said.

_Leverage. What or who?_

Bryce called Banjo but it went straight to voicemail. He has received confirmation from Ben, Barry and Bernard. Even from Spike. But he hasn't heard from Banjo. His brows knotted with worry, _Where are you and what are you up to?_

He heard Belle ask, "What's wrong?"

"I haven't heard from Banjo," he said. She was crestfallen. "Don't worry, he's probably engaged in a training exercise."

He turned to face her, "So what would you like to do? Cook or operate this thing?"

She cocked her head at him and said, "You're braver than I think if you think I can operate this thing."

"It's easy," he said. "You don't need a boat license to get this thing moving in the water, come let me show you." They walked to the helm of the floating house.

"Let's start with the basic. A houseboat is like any other floating vessel and uses much of the same nautical lingo as a yacht or a submarine does. Bow is the front of the boat. Stern, back of the boat. Forward, moving toward the bow. Aft, moving toward the stern.

**"**Port, if you're facing the front of the boat, port is the left side of the boat. Starboard, if you're facing the front of the boat, it's the right side of the boat Amidships, the middle of the boat. Beam, the widest part of the boat. Draft, the depth of the boat."

"Did I really have to know all that?"

"Ok, let me see. Let's say you heard me say, 'Pixie, the portside's on fire.' Where would you run to get away from it?"

She crunched her face, understanding now that if she didn't know port from starboard she wouldn't know where to go. "Sorry, carry on."

She discovered quickly that he wasn't lying. Being at the helm of the boat was easy but he cautioned her of one important fact. "Houseboats don't have brakes. Reversing your engine is the only braking mechanism. So, Pixie... please remember that this goes between 15 and 20 miles an hour, and weighs about five tonnes. Have 'no brakes' means that if you goof, it's all over."

"You can't leave me here," she protested, "I don't even know where we're going." He just laughed.

"I'm not. I just want you to know how it works. I don't want you to be reliant on me, ok. You need survival skills. We're going to Richmond now." He showed her a map of the waterways and pointed out the exact place where they need to be.

Dawn was coming, the sky overhead reddened as the sun set. Interspersed with bursts of yellow and indigo, the heavenly canvas looked just magnificent. She prepared dinner in the galley to the accompaniment of kookaburras, known around the world as the laughing bird.

At the helm, Bryce tried Banjo again, this time he answered. "What's up, man? One text and five voicemail messages. Isn't that a bit extreme?"

"Listen fuck face..." Bryce explained the situation, the younger Cameron said he totally understand the danger, but.

"Bro, I'm goin' on a date tonight. She's given me an ultimatum. She's gonna ditch me if I don't show. But I'll be very careful."

"Is she worth it?"

"Yeah, she's awesome, man. Can't wait to introduce her to Mum."

"Can't stop you... be happy and be careful."

"You're really starting to sound like Mum. See you soon."

**20:00 hours.** Banjo Mabo Cameron zipped up his leather jacket, straddled his BMW K1600 GTL and put on his racing helmet with built-in bluetooth connectivity. The first rate O'Neal Bluetooth helmet allows use of Bluetooth compatible GPS, Cellular Phones and other media devices, and it does so with no wire hanging out or cumbersome mic against the wearer's mouth. The Fastrack II helmet integrates all the communications technology within its protective lid.

The handsome devil hooned to the gate, removed his helmet to chat with the guards.

Toby, who was on stag with the binos on, kicked the TL's booted feet who was lying prone sleeping off his fatigue. "Commander, I've got eyes on Banjo Cameron."

The TL hastily raised himself to a kneeling position, took the bino from Toby and spied Black Kite, "You're f'ing right." He was looking at a younger version of the Wolf. "There was no mistaking it, that guy had to be Banjo."

But before they could move their ass, the Special Forces helo pilot has motored away.

"Boss?"

"Don't worry. We'll lift him on his return. It takes the guard at least a minute to open the gate. We'll move across the street and lay in wait just off the side of the gate.

Commander called Mr Shades, "Get your ass to Holsworthy Barracks as soon as you land."

"Copy."

At last, the break they were waiting for. They would take turns sleeping and watching, if it takes all night.


	40. Captain Banjo Mabo Cameron

**Captain Banjo Mabo Cameron**

Captain Cameron of the Royal Australian Aviation Corps rode his motorcycle with purpose. A chance meeting with the woman he considered his first love has driven him to distraction all week. _ What are the chances of me __bumping into her after nine years?_

He only left the Barracks one fine day with the intention of supplementing his sad looking wardrobe. Behold, the beautiful country lass from Tamworth was now a shop manager for a retail shop specialising in men's wear, the Caroline of his dreams. Upon sighting her, he was pegged to the ground. Stare at the woman with long black shiny hair was all he could do, until she said, "Are you just going to stand there and stare?"

She smiled at him and coolly greeted him with a chaste kiss on the cheek. "What are you doing here?"

Looking at her deep-set brown eyes, he said, rather feebly, "Shopping." She thought it was so cute. Used to being appraised and appreciated by the opposite sex, she wasn't too fussed that Banjo was acting strangely star struck. "What are you after?" she asked casually.

"Couple of shirts and pants." She looked him over and admired the unruly hair and sculptured physique. She pulled him along to a rack of shirts and helped fit him with a blue slim stretch shirt that magnified the intensity of his blue eyes; then a black oxford shirt. He picked up a couple of stone washed denim jeans, paid for the items and boldly asked for her phone number. She wrote it down on the back of her business card and made him promise to call.

Banjo joined the Army at 18, just after high school, with a dream to become a helicopter pilot. To fulfill the dream he had to pass rigorous screening for suitability as a pilot prior to entering the Royal Military College, Duntroon in Canberra. He passed with flying colours so the Australian Army Aviation (AAAvn) Corps was able to offer him a Cadetship retrospectively. This basically meant that prior to him completing his officer training, the Corps has reserved a position for him on its pilots course..

Earning his badge was a journey of dedication and sacrifice. Eighteen months of officer training was just the beginning, whereupon he was commissioned as a Lieutenant. A 26 weeks of Basic Flying Training Course at a New South Wales country town of Tamworth followed, where he met and courted Caroline. They were 21 and madly in love.

Then came Intermediate Pilots Course.

But soon after that, he had to move to Queensland for Helicopter Qualification Course. After that, it was on to Operational Type Transition Course, which means training on his allocated type of aircraft, which in his case was the beautiful flying war machine called the Black Hawk. This was followed by Regimental Officers' Basic Course.

By the time he earned his wings to operate his dream machine he was nearly 22, close to four years of exhaustive training to make him one of the best; and still very much in love with the charming Aussie lass from Tamworth. But the relationship was fraught with difficulties and long separations. Complicating it further, after completing his aviation course, the Asian tsunami happened. His first taste of overseas deployment as a fully pledged helicopter pilot was six-month mercy mission in Banda Aceh, Indonesia; and it dealt a deathly blow to his marriage plan.

Tried of waiting, and sick of long separation and oft-canceled reunion, Line ditched him. The woman he wanted to marry wanted nothing more to do with him. Ever. In her words, she didn't like playing second fiddle all the time to his career. There had been other women since but they, too, fell by the wayside. His erratic schedules and demanding mistress were to blame.

Seeing Line again out of the blue fired up those long buried romantic feelings. So when Capt Cameron asked the beautiful Tamworth lass for another chance and she said 'yes' but warned that if he stood her up there won't be another chance; he wasn't going to fail.

He has studied and worked so hard, given his all to his demanding and possessive mistress for 12 long years, so admittedly the question need to be asked. It tumbled out of his brain as he waited for the green light. _If she ask me to give it all up for a sedate life could I do it?_

The light switched to green and he turned the corner to where she lived with two housemates. He rode his motorbike into the driveway then moved to park it on the lawn. He wiped the sweat off his brow before walking to the door; while he waited for Line to let him in, he thought of Bryce. _He found Belle, someone accepting of him and his vocation. So there's hope. _

He has had his heart broken once. He was hoping not again this time. Line came to the door dressed in a slinky outfit befitting a model. The little black dress hid little to the imagination, very alluring, and the six-inch stiletto made the whole package sexy and sophisticated. Her make-up was elegantly applied, subtle. In a split second of unguarded moment he wondered where the charming country lass went, deep down though he was convinced she was still the same person. Happy, funny, witty, kind and sharp.

Nine years has passed since they last saw each other. A life time ago, she was just turning into a woman then. Now, she has blossomed into a heavenly creature. Sophisticated and gorgeous. Thankfully, he hasn't done too badly himself.

She hugged his neck and lingered; he drowned in her perfume. She smelt amazing.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked affectionately.

"Tap water's fine," he said.

She sashayed to the kitchen, and filled a glass of water for him; as she handed it to him she answered a call on her cellphone. Listening to her half of the conversation he worried they might not have anything in common anymore. He didn't know a thing about fashion and accessories, and absolutely clueless about beauty treatments and stuff. She, for sure, didn't know a thing about what the Army did. He just hoped she cared.

He amused himself perusing women's magazine and had a chuckle reading snippets of why women fake orgasm. Half an hour later, her conversation with "Darling" ended. She kissed his cheek and said, "Shall we go?" and laughed as she rubbed out the lipstick on his cheek.

"Leave it. I'll be the envy of every man."

As if she was just noticing the helmet for the first time, a small gasp escaped her lips, "Banjs, let's take my car instead, can't ride in a bike in this."

"No worries." She gave him her car key.

In the houseboat, docked in a marina at Richmond, Belle and Bryce laid on the deck listening to wildlife. Every now and then they would hear plopping sound in the water, flapping wings up above, hooting and screeching noises. Adding to these cacophony of sounds, Bryce played a moving version of _'Looking Through the Eyes of Love'_ with his harmonica.

"That's beautiful," she said teary-eyed, "Do you always play the harmonica?"

"It helps me de-stress. I play often but not when I'm on covert missions. That usually requires absolute quiet."

Looking skyward, they studied the night sky as it glistened with stars, he pointed to a cluster, "That's the Southern Cross."

Out of topic, she said, "I love you."

He didn't always say it back, more often than not, he responded with gestures of love. Bryce tilted her face and nibbled her lower lip, "It's getting cold. Let's go in before you catch pneumonia." Easing her up on her feet, they settled on the double bed and let the bobbing boat lull them to sleep.

It wasn't what Banjo expected for their first date. He had plans of taking her to a Spanish restaurant, for a romantic candle lit dinner. But she had made other plans. "Sorry darling, my friends want to meet you." He was massively disappointed but blamed himself for not making it clear that he wanted their date to be just between them. Time off was scarce enough for him as it was, so to be sharing her with friends just wasn't floating his boat.

His disappointment escalated to outright, but well contained, displeasure when the friends turned out to be slightly out of left field in the snobbery department. His saving grace was his good looks, so the ladies were keen to engage him but the men were characteristically insecure as evidenced by puffed chests.

The four men took turns to sleep, two hourly. **23:30 hours.** It's now the Commander's turns to man the fort while the other three tried their hardest to sleep in the cramped SVU, concealed from the road by scrubs and by its dark body paint.

Having only arrived in-country three days ago, and having been taken along for a merry chase round the block, they were fatigued and ill-equipped for the weather. Sydney's autumn could be wet and cold, as happened tonight. The temperature has dropped to 11C (52F), and the light drizzle has caused the grass to be slippery and wet. The man on stag was then forced to remain in the driver seat to keep watch.

At **01:00 hours,** Banjo made a move to extricate them from the friends. "It's nice meeting you all, but I have to take Line home."

"Line?" gasped one, "Did he call you Line, Carol? Oh, that's so sweet."

Another said, "But it's only one a.m.."

"I've got curfew," he replied.

"Curfew, what's that?"

Caroline came to his rescue, "He's in the Army. He has to be back in the barracks at a certain time." The reality was he didn't but right now it was all the excuse he had to remove himself from this crowd.

"Army?" exclaimed another. "Oh, that's so cute."

His eyebrow went up. _Cute?_ Cute didn't come close.

_So was she worth it?_ He had to admit he wasn't sure but he's definitely, without a doubt, attracted to her. Very attracted. _Just not enamored with her crowd,_ he rationalised.

After half an hour of endless good-bye and air kisses, it was time to go. He didn't have any expectations but the second they were alone they couldn't take their hands off each other. By the time they got back to the car, they were ready to make out. The passion was electric and combustible. The Tamworth country lass was charming but this sophisticated city woman was a smoldering specimen. Delicious. Dangerous. Decadent. Desirous.

He ended up staying the night. A night of interrupted sleep but heck, he thought, he'd gone to heaven.

**05:00 hours. **He woke up, showered and kissed Line good bye. She opened her eyes, pulled him back to bed, straddled him and sensuously asked, "When will I see you again?"

"Sooner than you think," he said.

"That's not an answer."

"You know how it is..." . She pouted and then he had a sense of déjà vu. He kissed her and said, "I'll call."

The traffic was light. It was just the kind of ride he liked; pleasant, fast and furious. He covered the distance from her house to the Holsworthy Barracks in just under 20 minutes. The sun hasn't risen above the horizon so to improve visibility he used the high beam of his headlight.

Closer to the gate, glint bounced off the silver bumper bar of the concealed SUV and it caught his attention. He considered the possibility of mechanical problem, perhaps its was waiting for road assistance or waiting to be towed. But his brain triggered an alert, one didn't conceal a vehicle waiting for assistance.

_Only one way to find out._ He careened past the gate. Mr Cool, who was now on stag, felt the vibration of his motorcycle as he accelerated. Without bothering to wake this companions up, he fired up the engine and gave chase.

Banjo kept his chest close to the tank to improve aerodynamics, and to lower his centre of gravity, but most importantly so he was tucked in safely behind his windscreen. Accelerating to a ridiculous triple digit speed, he pressed 3 on his cellphone that was conveniently attached to the handle bar; speaking into the speaker-mic within his helmet, he urged, "Come on... pick up."

His name appeared on the screen, Bryce picked up the call immediately, "Ban..."

The younger sibling's wind rushed voice came through loud and clear. "They're after me, mate."

"You're shitting me." He jumped up and started pacing the floor. Belle overhead and sat up on the bed worried.

"I wish," he said breathlessly as his rear tire slid minutely sideways due to the wet asphalt. The experienced rider didn't panic. He kept his cool; didn't do any drastic steering, braking or throttle action. They were not required because trying to steer a sliding bike, like a sliding car, can backfire. Without his interference, the bike corrected itself, thanks to its self-steering caster effect. At small levels of sliding, the tires stick to the road even better, and allowed for quicker braking, sharper cornering and stronger acceleration.

The Wolf was frustrated. He was 52 kilometres away from Banjo, a drive time of 45 minutes assuming he even has a car handy which he didn't. There was nothing he could do but assist Banjo formulate an escape and evasion plan. "Where are you?"

"Just passed the gate of Hols, they were waiting for me by the gate."

"Turn back, mate. Stay urban." Beyond the Barracks was nothing but bush and shrubs, not a good place to be trapped.

"You sure?"

"Unless there's a bike track into the Barracks through the bush, head back to the CBD."

The SUV got too close for comfort to his tail as he slowed for the U-turn. Sensing a change of direction and pace, the four wheel drive squealed as Mr Cool stepped on its brake and performed a three-point turn.

Bryce came back on the line, "Keep your eyes peeled for a multi-storey shopping mall with car park."

"Copy." Accelerating, Banjo quickly rolled off the throttle to unload the gearbox and then clicked up a gear without using the clutch. The maneuver was much smoother and faster than using the clutch. The traffic was heavier now.

Bryce rubbed the back of his neck, "Talk to me, where you are?"

"Less than 10 minutes to Westfield Liverpool."

"Go up to the top level of the car park, then take the bike down the pedestrian disabled ramp to the shop itself." Banjo got the idea, for although most of the shops were still close, the mall was already open for early morning grocery shoppers.

"Copy. Bro, I got this. Over and out."

"Mabo," shouted Bryce angrily. Banjo owned Mabo. No one else got called by that name but him although all of them shared the second name. He was always called that when just like now, he's gone rogue.

"Fuck," Bryce stomped his foot and tried calling back but Black Kite was now out of reach.

Banjo wound his way up the car park with the SUV in hot pursuit, when he reached the top, he went down the disabled pedestrian ramp into the shop area to the surprise of a security guard, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Unable to follow in their vehicle, the men spilled out of the 4W drive. The Commander hastily assigned his men to a floor each. Three took the stairs to the lower levels while Toby alone pursued the prey at level four.

Worried that the black clad rider with a full face helmet may be a bandit, the security guard called for urgent assistance and back up. While he was at it, Banjo turned the motorcycle back the way it came and saw a man's silhouette coming down the ramp. The engine screamed as he gave it enough power to raise the front wheel off the ground with a simple acceleration. Toby narrowly missed being decapitated as Capt Cameron's well timed wheelie nearly landed on him. But as he slid the rear tire a little to the left, it took Toby's right leg, scraping the skin right off. His cohorts rushed back up to his aid...

…..as they listened to the fading sound of Cameron's BMW K1600GTL.


	41. The Double Cross

_Author's Note: For back story, please read 'Full Metal Jacket' if you haven't. It gave fuller account of Belle's Cyberforensics know-how. _

_And this chapter is the twist you never expected. _

**The Double Cross**

**06:30 hours**. Banjo called Bryce as soon as his ass was safely inside the Barracks. The big brother was relieved but pissed off, "You're an ass you know that." The younger Cameron defensively said, "Told you I got it. Anyway, I got the SUV's rego number, you want it?"

"Give it to me." Banjo dictated it, Bryce repeated it, Belle captured it in her memory bank.

"How's Belle, bro?"

"She's ok. She was worried about you."

"Tell her I'm fine."

"Stay close to base. We don't need another scare."

"Will do, I have enough excitement for one day. You and Belle stay safe, bro."

Then it was the Wolf's turn to say, "You sound like Mum."

_It's going to be a very long day._ Bryce went to the galley to make coffee for himself, "Pixie, can you find out who it belongs to?"

She smiled. "Yeah, I can."

"Good. I'll head off to Richmond Air Force base to collect the package." He gazed at his wife with a serious expression as he languidly rested his backside on the sink, his bare feet crossed over, sipping black coffee. "You're gonna be ok here by yourself?"

"Yeah," she replied.

"I better move my ass," he said. He emptied the coffee mug, ruffled her hair on the way to the shower. She followed him with her eyes as he disappeared to the bathroom, whispering to no one, she said, "I'm so in love with you."

She send an email to rental companies in and around the Airport. The subject line was: Request quote. The electronic mail contained a virus that would give her remote access to their computers. Cyberforensics was one of her three degrees, hacking was what she did for fun as a youngster. The third, which she never told anyone, was archaeology. Not that she wasn't proud of it. She just wasn't proud why she chose to do it; she was in love with Gerald Butler, _Tomb Raider's _sexy guy.

The men regrouped in their hotel room. Toby was badly injured. Mr Shades who was ex-Green Beret, bandaged him up as best he could. The Commander made a decision to send the fourth member of the team packing. In his current state, he was more of a liability to them. The Commander called the Eagle to report in but there was no answer. He tried all available avenue; email, land line, cellphone; without success. After half an hour of trying every five minutes, he sensed something wasn't right.

Mr Cool, the most placid member of the Team, didn't like it either. "He sent us to operate half way around the world and now he's gone. That doesn't add up. And the information he fed us... what was that? He didn't know from the start this Belle had close protection. I'm not buying it." The Commander was just as bothered. It was all too convenient or inconvenient, depending on perspective.

Mr Shades said "Maybe something's happened to him."

The Commander was now even more determined to find the thumb drive, "We need to find it but we're stuck here with no logistical support. I don't think something's happened to him. The Nest is one of the most secure safe houses I know. No one can come close to it without him being alerted from 200 metres. It has secret egress and ingress route under the basement. He has gone to ground without a word to us and I want to know why."

He looked at Toby, right leg expertly bandaged up by Mr Shades. "We're sending you home. Head back to the Nest and report back to us. We need to locate the Eagle." With a nod, he instructed Mr Cool to arrange a flight for Toby.

At the Marina, Bryce put his dog tag around his neck, kissed his wife, "I'm off. Take the boat 500 metres away from the wharf. I'll call you when I get back."

She said, "Be safe, darling." Likewise, he reminded her to be alert. He hopped off the boat unto the pier and watched to make sure she maneuvered it safely away before turning on his heels.

Richmond is a leafy suburb that housed a large number of service men and women. It didn't take long as he waited on the curb for a vehicle with a uniformed occupant in it to appear on the road, he flagged it down; with his dog tag visible around his neck, the soldier stopped, "Hop in, mate."

"Thanks."

"Where you going?"

"Just picking up a package from Jonesy."

"No worries. You're not based here."

"No... Campbell Barracks."

"SASR?" Bryce nodded. The soldier smiled. "You look like you've just returned from a badass mission."

"What made you say that?"

"You're skinny," he observed, "You guys are mostly built like mud brick houses." He laughed and made a comment that not all SF guys look like that. He thought of "Baby Face" aka "Choir Boy". Trooper Bridge looked 18 at 25, weighed 58 kgs soaking wet, 5'7 standing on full height, but not one to mess with.

At the Base, mail sorter Jonesy had the package waiting for him. "Thanks, mate."

"No worries."

He caught a lift back to the gate. He was waiting for a cab when Belle rang. "Pixie, you ok?"

She snickered at her over protective husband, "Why shouldn't I be? I'm in the middle of the River with just cormorants for company. You have the thumb drive yet?"

"Yup, I'm heading back to you."

"No need darling. Upload it to my cloud account, I'll text you the detail. And I got the name of the guy who rented the SUV, he gave Holiday Inn as his Sydney address, close to the Airport. Guy's name is Richard H. M. Phillips. That's from his passport."

"You're amazing."

"Well, thank you... so are you."

"I'll head to the City and will upload it from the hotel. Catch you later."

Mr Cool called Emirates, their preferred Airliner, and found a seat at short notice for Toby. "It's departing in two hours, Let's go, Toby." He would be traveling with just the clothes on his back, cellphone, passport and a light wallet.

The Commander had a sixth sense that all wasn't what it seemed, he gripped the young man's arm as they shook hands, "Take care, son." Toby was the son he never had. They met in the FBI where he was a sniper instructor and assault specialist. The young man caught his attention early on. Enterprising, eager, hard working. He needed honing and up-skilling but the latent talent was there.

The story of their Team started two years ago when former veteran FBI desk jockey, Connor Sylvester left the Bureau to sort himself out. Six months after leaving the Bureau, the geek resurfaced as_ The Eagle_, re-emerging as a man with a mission and a purpose.

Around this time, the Eagle approached Phillips about forming a group of operatives for a start-up security consulting group. "This is your chance to make a real difference," he said. He sold him the idea of a company engaged in covert operation unencumbered by red tapes and legal loopholes; it appealed to his sense of patriotism. But the clincher was the Eagle's claim that it was sanctioned by the U.S. Government. "Our pay and budget would be funded through a discretionary fund approved by Congress." The plan was laid out to him in great detail, "all cards on the table" he recalled the Eagle saying. It was even suggested that he, Richard H. M. Phillips, should be named a founding director and he agreed. Looking back, he jumped on it to enhance his ego, it fed his desire for recognition.

And the very idea of a real-life Threadstone based on the fictional Bourne series was too good to pass up. He remembered thinking it was the freaking best thing that ever happened to him. Besides, he's known the geek for a long time, or so he thought, their history at the FBI went back many years. He personally recruited every men to the Company they named 'Eagle Eyes International Security Consulting'. With him as Director and Chief of Operations, Toby, Mr Cool and Mr Shades didn't hesitate to jump on-board. Now he wasn't sure what he recruited the guys into.

In hindsight, he was the wrong person to head up a security consulting group. He was a 25 year veteran of the FBI but he was not in intelligence, surveillance or counter-surveillance. What he was was the Bureau's best trainer and assessor in combat scenario. It's been a year on. It's too late to be asking the question, Why me?

It seemed for all intents and purposes that the Eagle has flown the coop. He, on the other hand, was halfway around the world outside of his skill set and his comfort zone. Something stinks.

**09:00 hours. **Bryce walked into the Holiday Inn, the thumb drive burning a hole in his pocket. He walked confidently to the Receptionist, "Name's Phillips. Richard Phillips."

"Good morning, Mr Phillips. How can I help you?"

"Do you have an office I can use?"

"Yes sir, we have a dedicated office for guests' use" and gave him direction. He thanked her, casually strolled over to the office cum conference room and uploaded the file. For insurance, he copied it to two cloud accounts, his and hers. Whatever was in the thumb drive nearly cost Belle her life, were it not for the fact he was with her, he was certain she would have meet her Maker much earlier than expected.

The file was massive. It took nearly 15 minutes to copy all of it. He slid the small information storage device into an envelope, wrote the name Richard Phillips on the outside and handed it to the receptionist, "Could you please put this in my pigeon hole?" He didn't wait around to be asked him room number. He turned the corner towards the restaurant where buffet breakfast was being served, when he was out of sight, he stopped to spy on the clerk as she searched the name 'Richard Philips' in her database, found the room number and slotted the envelope in the pigeon hole, number 515.

Bryce went in the restaurant to have breakfast, he was never one to pass up the opportunity to refuel; adhering to the truism that a starving operative was never effective.

**09:30 hours,** he was just getting up for the mother of all confrontation when Belle called, "Darling, something doesn't make any sense," she said.

"Slow down, Pixie," he said, "Start from the beginning...what doesn't make sense?"

He listened to Belle, not daring to interrupt her. When she finished, he said he had a business to complete and he'll be straight home to her. She made him promise not to do anything stupid, he said, as usual, he won't.

He approached a different receptionist and asked for messages for Richard Phillips. "Room 515." He was handed the envelope. "Here you go, sir? Anything else I can do for you."

"Nope, thanks."

Based on Banjo's report of injury to one of the guys, he expected them to be hanging around. He knocked discreetly on the door and heard someone asked, "Who's there?"

He didn't see the point in lying. "Bryce Cameron, I heard you were looking for me." The Commander and Mr Shades locked eyes and simultaneously thought, _What the..._

Phillips nodded to the ex-Green Beret to let their guest in. Cameron stepped in slowly, hands out front of his torso, both to show he was unarmed and to protect himself in case the men decided to assault him before they ask questions.

"I have something for you, it's in my right pocket, an envelope." The Commander nodded to David Turnbull aka Mr Shades. He dug his hand in Wolf's pocket and pulled out the envelope, handed it to the Commander.

"It's what you were after. Can I put my hands down now?" Without waiting for an invitation, he sat his ass down on a chair and waited for a reaction. The Commander skeptically said, "Just like that, huh?"

"Yup, just like that. Belle Gallagher, the woman you're after is my wife and we're having a baby. But don't worry, I copied the file into a cloud account. If something happens to my wife or me, or any of my family, acid rain will dump on you, it'll scorch you as far as your crotch."

If a laser stare could kill, Phillips and Turnbull would have been stricken dead, "Besides, I'm not your problem. You, my friends, have bigger problems than you think." He pulled his cellphone out, "Can I call my wife?"

"Put it on speaker."

He pressed "1" on speed dial. "Hey" she answered happily.

"Pixie, can you tell me again what you found out?" She tensed. She sensed he wasn't alone. "Darling, did you do something stupid?"

"No, I did what I had to do. Now, please tell these gentlemen what you found out."

Her voice hitched an octane higher, she felt nauseous all of a sudden. "Who's with you?" she asked softly.

The Wolf raised his brow at the Commander, who replied, "Richard Phillips."

"Mr Phillips, I'll start from the beginning. Bilal Bhutto, Senator Feinstein's senior staff scribbled a cover letter saying how he came to acquire the confidential info contained in the thumb drive. He said it was sent to him anonymously. He didn't know who gave it to him or how they hacked into his personal email account. The confidential file was about the misappropriation of $70 million dollars earmarked for assisting the fledgling democratically elected Iraqi Government to strengthen their intelligence division, to help them combat insurgency and terrorism."

Phillips and Turnbull were overcome with dread, they could see where this was heading and they were not liking it.

"Mr Phillips, what was your expertise?" Belle asked.

"I was a sniper instruction at Quantico."

She exhaled. "Right, Mr Phillips, if I handed you a gun, how long before you can tell what it is?"

"Before you even hand it to me," he said. The Wolf smiled. He agreed. Someone familiar with guns would know what it is just by its appearance; not only that; he could tell the manufacturer, the country of origin, the cartridge that go with it, and whether its cocked and ready to fire. On top of that, he would know whether its fully loaded just by feel.

"Mr Phillips, I am like that with number. I look at a set of numbers and I know if something's not quite right. But the reality is Mr Bhutto had done all the work, all he hired me for was to give a second opinion. He said it all seemed hinky and I agree completely. Like all number groupings, expenses and disbursement should be chaotic and random, but there should be some kind of logic and set parameters about it. Like when you drop a bunch of paper clips on the table. The paper clips would scatter at a distance approximate to the height it was dropped from. In that random pattern, an order would emerge; chaotic but with logic to it."

She paused, hesitating, wondering if they were catching on, "Anyway, the expenses and disbursement were noticeably lacking that randomness, it was too ordered. I'm not sure if I'm making any sense. But what's concerning for forensic accountants like me was what's not there. It seemed contrived. But the conclusion of the long story was you, Mr Phillips, embezzled $70 million of the U.S. Government's money."

The Wolf could only feel sympathy for the former FBI. He was certain Phillips wasn't guilty just by the look of him. Ashen faced, Richard was gripped with worry.

"How do I prove my innocence?" he asked.

Belle knew the question was being directed at her, "I don't know sir. Without access to records, there's not much anyone could do. My gut feeling and instinct would not stand up in Court."

Cameron stood up, "Mate, I have one word of advice... don't go back home. They'd rendition you. You know how it is."

He walked over to the defeated man, offered a hand and said, "You know where to find me if you need help." They shook hands. Richard confessed, "We killed an innocent man because he said he was a traitor to our country. We could have killed Belle Gallagher."

"Because he told you she was a foreign agent, correct?"

"Right," Phillips affirmed.

"Who's he?"

"The man who start the company, who recruited me."

"I think you tried to reach him and you couldn't." The Commander and Mr Shades turned a shade grey. They had been taken for fools. Wolf's sympathy turned to empathy. He felt their pain and their shame.

He was on his way out when Mr Cool returned, Bryce nodded at him. The other man looked at the Commander, "What was that about?" They told him and he was rightfully freaked out. They were now America's most wanted.

Stateside, a team of agents from the FBI has been scrambled overseas several days ago. The FBI having pinged Toby's departure from Sydney to Washington, D.C. via Bangkok and Dubai and sent a team at his first layover. The poor kid had no chance. The Commander called to warn him as he was preparing to disembark, but it was too late. A posse of agents were positioned on the tarmac where the plane was instructed to stop. A stair was attached to the Boeing 747's door, whereupon agents boarded to escort Toby out.

One patriot down, three to follow.

Cameron walked for hours, hate building inside him. He had to admire the genius behind the scheme. He wasn't impressed that he got away with US$70M large. The genius wasn't in the end result, it was in the execution of the plan. The fact he was able to use a FBI veteran as a patsy was audacious. That he was able to manipulate good men to eliminate Bilal Bhutto whose only crime was for agitating, urging his Senator to propose an audit of all special funds was impressive machination.

The unknown asshole just didn't expect Bhutto to forward the thumb drive to another forensic accountant to verify his suspicion; and, he didn't expect to come across the Wolf by proxy.

He had a thought. No one should be able to play, manipulate and use good, decent men and expect to get away with it. One has to draw a line somewhere.

_One day_, he thought, one day their paths would cross.

That day would come.


	42. A Very, Very Brief Return to Normalcy

_Authors Note: 25 April is ANZAC (Australian and New Zealand Army Corps) Day when Australians and New Zealanders remember the fallen. The date is the anniversary of the landing of troops from both countries on the Gallipoli Peninsula, Turkey, in World War I on April 25, 1915. The bravery of all military personnel who participated in this campaign and the lives of those who died in all military actions are remembered with this final verse from Laurence Binyon's "For the Fallen"._

**_They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old;  
Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn.  
At the going down of the sun and in the morning  
We will remember them._**

_This chapter is dedicated to all who served and who are currently serving; and their families as well. Lest We Forget._

**A Very, Very Brief Return to Normalcy**

Before they parted, Bryce and Richard exchanged information.

The ex-FBI gave Bryce the Eagle's real name; while the Wolf gave him something he was free to share with his men; this they would keep in their head, seared and filed away; it was to be their lifeline, the Wolf's contact detail.

There was nothing for him to do now but return to Gregory Downs. He headed back to Richmond, his head swirling with dark clouds. He hated to think what would happen to the guys but it didn't take a genius to surmise what loomed ahead. He could only hope that the three would try to save their own skin although he seriously doubted Richard Phillips would. He has a man down, a true leader would take the fall if meant rescuing his mate.

After nearly two hours of commuting via the rail system back to Richmond and then a cab for the marina, his mood hasn't improved. He felt it unfair that Belle would bear the brunt of it. He shrugged his shoulders internally, he just couldn't help feeling the way he did.

He called her from the Marina and reminded her that houseboats don't have brakes. From where he stood, he could see her at the helm of the boat, her face a look of grim determination to get it right. Get it wrong and she'd total the boat not to mention wreck the dock. Concentrating so hard, she unconsciously stuck her tongue out, wetting her bottom lip with it. It made him smile.

Both to their relief, she successfully maneuvered the boat.

Belle knew the second she saw his countenance that not all was well with his world. She hugged him to let him know she was glad he was back. She offered to take the helm, he plotted their course on the GPS. Throughout the journey back to Brooklyn, Bryce sat on the deck with his harmonica. She got teary with his rendition of 'Danny Boy', a ballad closely associated with Irish communities yet written by English songwriter Frederic Weatherly and set to the Irish tune of the 'Londonderry Air'.

She thought he was most definitely in a sentimental mind set because he followed this with a slow arrangement of 'Waltzing Matilda'. It could be said that if it had been chosen Australia's National Anthem no one would have baulked even though it was about a traveling workman who committed suicide by drowning himself in a billabong when he was being arrested for theft. Decidedly not out of character for a nation of convicts and where Ned Kelly, a 19th century bush gangster is revered as a hero.

She didn't realised how badly he was feeling until he played another haunting tune which she recognised as the 'Last Post'. She stopped the boat. Fixed them both a pot of tea. With a tray in one hand and a blanket in another she joined him on the deck.

"It's getting cold," she said. He hadn't noticed that rain clouds have rolled in and the surrounding colour has dramatically changed from azure to grey.

She poured him a cup of tea and said, "What's up?"

He told her how badly he was feeling it as she poured herself a cup of tea. She wrapped herself in a blanket, rested against the rail of the bow listening intently.

"I'll help you find him," she offered. "Everyone leaves a track in cyberspace, no matters how careful one is. If he has left a single footprint, it would enough for me to go on."

He smiled gratefully, it was just what he needed to hear. Then it reminded him of Grace, Hawko's daughter. "Pixie, there's something else... may be you can help."

Belle agreed to help, "I need a picture of her and some basic information, I can take it from there."

He looked at her with growing suspicion, "What haven't you told me about you?"

She smiled sheepishly, "Have you heard of a group called 'Anonymous'?"

"The hacktivist group?"

"Exactly that," she said. "I was active with that group until two years ago. It's an underground movement with no leader but with common goals. I was particularly active back in the day on anti-bullying and sexual abuse cases. Others are more into government secrets, others on corporate greed." She paused to consider what to say next. "Whatever happened to Grace... somehow I'll find out. It will take time though."

He smiled. "Let's toast. From one warrior to another." They raised the cup of tea and drank to it.

They decided to stay on the houseboat one more night. "I miss Gregory Downs," she said as she curled up next to him.

"You're in paradise and you miss sun-burnt Gregory Downs?" he teased.

"It's my sun-burnt Gregory Down," she replied. "And we left Rajo still in plastic cast, remember? He must be very worried."

"Don't worry, I've already told everyone all's good. Raf has dealt with it and brought everyone home and Rajo's back in school. If anything his only anxiety had been he missed out on the excitement."

The next morning, they caught up with Hawko who was pleased to get his houseboat back in one piece. Belle remembered the laptop they borrowed. It was Bryce's cue to bring the topic of Grace up. As the men huddled, she made herself at home boiling water for tea.

On the hike up the bushy path to Grace's isolated yurt to return the device, the younger man once again asked his former CO if he wanted to find out the truth no matter the outcome. "You bet," he said. Upon reaching the five stone pyramid, Hawko asked him to wait. This time Bryce was not invited in and even Hawko himself was back less than five minutes later. The old man was only given enough time to say 'thank you' and one brief kiss. The only word he could think of was sad.

Bryce and Belle didn't hang around much longer after that. "We need to get going, my wife misses home." Hawko's eyebrow went skyward. "You missed that god forsaken place? You need to go out more young lady. Not even I lasted three days, boring as hell. Flat as a pancake."

"Sure, sure. You felt right at home there, old man."

"Camo, you call me old man one more time and you'd be eating my fist." Belle watched the camaraderie between the men and listened to their banter. She felt she has gained a small measure of their mateship, of their shared experiences to which she would never be a part of.

The time for saying goodbye was over. As they walked up to the rail station, Hawko passed Bryce a small black notebook. "My notes. People I spoke to about Grace, until I hit a brick wall of silence."

Bryce pocketed it. He didn't want to over promise. "It will take time."

"However long it takes. Just remember, Camo, I'm 60 now. Don't wait till I'm dead to find out, ok."

The men hugged each other affectionately. "See you soon, mate."

It was the beginning of March they finally returned home. In their two weeks absence, Cameron Country echoed with silence except for Raf's occasional presence. Now that they were home, they took off where they left off.

Rajo returned home for a week-end visit. A joyous occasion celebrated with ice cream and cake which the nine year old relished. His visit was punctuated with raucous laughter and story-telling of school boys' misdeeds and lots of head shaking from Belle.

Billy and Raf joined them a couple of days later to share their own news. They have booked their return to Toronto for the end of May. "We gotta stay for your wedding," she said. "We won't miss that for the world."

Raf happily related that his Dad has been released from prison where he served 15 years for murder and home at last. "But Mom is stressed. She's not used to having him around even though they love each other to bits."

Sue returned home to Malanda to her sisters and asked for Belle to visit with them so it was arranged that Rajo would come home every fortnight for the week-end; and every fortnight Belle would visit with them for the day after taking her son to school. It was all dinky-di. All hunky-dory.

All of March was uneventful which was eventful in itself, because in Cameron Country that was exceptional. Here no news was good news. Come April, the black phone rang again. The brief lull was interrupted. The calm was shattered. It's was time for Bryce to leave again.

Three days before he was to leave for a place unknown, to do something classified that she would never hear a word about it, Bryce tuned out. A process she understood as psyching himself. He read a lot of stuff on his computer as soon as he was back from farming. He internalised a lot and she felt shunted sideways. In herself was a growing dread and sadness. But she knew she wasn't alone.

Every where around the world are women and children; and these days husbands; who miss their loved ones stuck in the front line in numerous theatres of war. Mothers and fathers; brothers and sisters; cousins and friends, all longing to see the safe return of someone they hold dear.

As the day of his departure drew near, she steeled herself. No one could make her strong except herself.

The night before he left, they cuddled in the hammock. The windows wide open so they could see the expanse of darkened sky lit by millions of distant stars. The moon was crescent. He brushed her lips with his. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he said.

She didn't say anything, afraid that if she opens her mouth, the words that would tumble out would be pleas for him to stay. Instead, she kissed him back and they made love.

When he left the next morning, he acted as though he was merely going out to muster the cattle. "See you soon, Pixie." Billy's goodbye was more elaborate. She wrapped her legs around his waist when they hugged like the first time he left home to join the Army. She was five and he was seventeen.

In Sydney, at the Bunker, SAS Corporal Bryce Mabo Cameron was briefed on his mission. It was so hair raising that he was given papers to write his Last Will and Testament and a love letter to his wife. It was SAS tradition for men going on one-way ticket mission to do so. He had tears in his eyes when he finished writing them. They were sealed in an envelope to be given to Belle Cameron in the event of.

Bryce was inserted in-country in the dead of night in a place somewhere in Africa in early April. Belle heard from him in the early hours of that day saying just one phrase, "I love you."

In the days that followed, Belle lived the life of a farmer's wife. Looked after the finances. Sought help when she needed them. Paid the bills. Balanced the books. Inspected the property. Looked after their son. Visited with her mother-in-law. Went out with Billy. Conferred with Raf. And worked on finding the Eagle and in seeking justice for Grace. Her days were full but her nights were lonely.

On 25 April, she watched the live telecast of the Dawn Service. A commemoration of ANZAC Day. Corporal Ben Roberts-Smith, _fair dinkum_ SAS and Victoria Cross medal recipient for Gallantry, the highest honour the Empire could bestow on a soldier read letters from the front line. The last letter he read was from Benjamin Chuck written for Tess Crane:

_'Hey baby, I waited till the night before we were going out to write this, put it off is more like it. Obviously I didn't think that I'd die, no-one does. The way I look at it is, if it's your time it's your time. I just wanted you to know how special you are to me. You are the sweetest, kindest and prettiest girl I've ever met. I'm so happy you chose me and we got to spend the last 18 months together. I am sorry to put you through this, please forgive me. And I hope you find someone down the track to make you happy, although matching me will be a hard task. You'll always be with me my love, and I with you'_ - Private Benjamin Chuck, 2nd Commando of Regiment, killed in action 2010.

She listened and cried. She wondered if Bryce had been asked to write a letter for her and what it might say. Then she realised that she would rather not know because knowing meant he was dead. Instead she consoled herself with, "See you soon, Pixie," echoing his words of goodbye to her.


	43. Because Someone's Gotta Do It

_Author's Note: I apologise for the delay in uploading this chapter. It took several days of research to get the information I needed to make this believable and as factual as possible. I am aware that it takes time to read my story; time I can't refund to you if I waste it with non-sense. The least I can do is make a huge effort to make it right._

_I dedicate this chapter to all my U.S. and Canadian followers. You have all been awesome. This is not to take away from those who read my stories from other countries. Far from it, because to all of you I owe my success, no matter how small._

**Because Someone's Gotta Do It**

The sacrifices soldiers make aren't limited to themselves; it extended beyond their person. It encompasses every one who ever loved them and beyond. At home as they struggled to live one day at a time, they live in hope that Bryce would be one of those who make it back home in one piece.

Sue knew her son has used up every one of his nine lives. She kept this to herself. Rationalising that someone's gotta do it. Heck, she thought, if it weren't for WWII veterans, she would be speaking Nippongo and eating with chopsticks.

Belle wasn't sure how she could sleep through the night and only waking to pee; the growing baby in her belly making it one of her life's constant must-do; by all account she should be twisting and turning in her hammock, worried sick. But thankfully, that wasn't the case.

Bryce has been gone three weeks. Two weeks to go till the fifth of May, their supposed wedding day. It was chosen because it's Mum's birthday and every one would be home. "Everyone will be home. We have occasionally missed Christmas and new year but not Mum's birthday, unless deployed," said Billy.

"Ben, Barry, Bernard and Banjo have filed for their annual leave and I'm here," she assured Belle with a smile.

Belle smiled back bravely, "All except the bridegroom, we don't even know where he is, let alone if he could make it in time for the wedding."

"Oh, he'll be here," said Billy, "because if not, I will kill him myself."

Bryce "Wolf" Cameron was the weapon of last resort to capture the mastermind of a people-smuggler syndicate identified as an Afghan man named Nasir Majeed; failing that, he has to take him out of the picture. Boatloads of asylum-seekers have been arriving in droves, undeterred by risks of sailing the open ocean on rickety boats. All paid huge sums for the right to risk life and limbs; face starvation, drowning and piracy at sea.

People-smugglers have been the scourge of successive Australian governments. The Afghan man has evaded arrest in Indonesia and intelligence dragnet has identified him as having escaped to Nigeria, a country Australia has no extradition treaty with. Requests for extradition was filed by the Government and been denied, it was now time for action. The time for talk was well and truly over.

Belle observed that for a couple of weeks before his departure, the Wolf has not shaved. Hair covered his dark features giving him the appearance of a mongrel. Though not as dark of most Africans, he could easily be mistaken for a halfie; half African, half white. And since arriving at the Sydney Bunker, where he stayed in-house for a three-day briefing, he hasn't bothered to wash, he was morphing into one of the great third world unwashed. Briefing him had been a olfactory nightmare for intelligence officers. In the enclosed, highly secret space they were gagging to a mix of underarm odor and some, as yet, unidentified spices. For an operative like Bryce, there was no point inserting covertly if your body smell could reveal you as a fraud. Every detail has to be right.

At the briefing, he was shown aerial photographs of Majeed's mansion in the Maitama District of Abuja, capital of Nigeria. North of the city, Maitama District is home to the top bracket sections of society and business, and has the reputation of being very exclusive and very expensive.

The mansion was surrounded by wall twelve feet high and one foot thick, as well as an array of high-tech security defenses. On the top of the wall were large, restrictive coils, backed up by security cameras, spaced closer than necessary to minimise blind areas. These were mounted on 20-foot decorative iron stands within the compound. "These cameras are encased in bullet proof housing, have 1000 horizontal lines of resolution and 400 feet range and they all pan 360 degrees," informed a young Intelligence officer. "In other words, they'd know you're coming."

The second image flashed on the large screen. "Within the compound is an elevated outpost, with bullet proof windows. Three Guards man the property 24/7, on three rotation."

Another photo taken from a helicopter faded into view: "The mansion has three above-ground and two basement floors. He and his family; three wives and 15 children, ranging in age from 30 to six; live in the sixteen-room upper levels, in luxury. The two basement floors housed 24 guards and an armoury. They share quarters with five train-to-kill dobermans."

Then, a photo of the garage: "Here's a separate building, 100 metres away, interconnected to the main house via a covered walkway. The garage. It houses Majeed's cars, his obsession. At last count, six Porsche of different models, one Lamborghini, one Ferrari and a specially-designed, fully-enclosed, bullet proofed Land Rover."

"What's security like inside?"

"We don't know for sure the extent of security features. Cameras definitely. A couple of rooms on the top floor has pressure pad sensors much like those used by museums. We think it's where he stores vital information and his hidden-wealth."

The Wolf's brow furrowed. "How often does he travel out of the compound?"

"Not often and they vary. He doesn't stick to routine. Unfortunately his Chief of Security is ex-UKSF, was a Pathfinder." The Pathfinder is the ghost force of the United Kingdom's elite Parachute Regiment. It's a specialist reconnaissance unit, and part of the 16 Air Assault Brigade. The cream of the crop of paratroopers, so secretive hardly anyone outside of the military know they exist. There are so few of them they are rumoured to number between 35 to a hundred, depending on who was asking.

He stayed for three days. Reviewing satellite photos; listening to wire taps; studying his quarry; rehearsing options in his head. But there's only so much he could do at the Bunker. It was time to go, ready or not.

Before he left, the Boss said, "Failure is not an option."

He was inserted into Nigeria on April 5. The clandestine insertion was necessary to protect not only the Wolf but also his family. Majeed was known to exact vengeance the Afghan way. He would annihilate the Cameron clan to its last and youngest member and there was no way that was going to happen on Bryce's watch. For this reason, failure wasn't an option. Getting caught wasn't an option. Only 100% success would do. Anything less would be the signing of his mob's death warrant.

It's now been three weeks. Three weeks of endless reconnaissance disguised as a street cleaner. Were it not for the predominantly dark-skinned inhabitants, the leafy suburb could easily be mistaken for the North Shore of Sydney or the green, highly vegetated area of Austin, Texas. The residential area was heavily patrolled by armed guards, and he has no illusions; he didn't doubt they meant to use their weapons and ask questions later. Paranoid home owners fear for their safety due to high crime so each and every mansion were also heavily guarded but luckily not all were as heavily fortified as Majeed's.

Days of endless wandering around the exclusive enclave, he finally chose a tree in a neighbouring property with line of sight of the Majeed mansion, the perfect place to lay up for a recce. Before first light, he climbed over the nine foot wall and clambered up a mature deciduous tree. He selected two branches side by side, erected a custom-made and light weight brown and green coloured hammock simply by slinging the paracord at each end and looped these onto the branches. At daylight, he sat on the hammock, bino glued to his eyes observing the movements of the inhabitants. At night, he slept on it.

He has food and water supply for a three-day recce. It was uncomfortable. Hot during the day. Cold at night. He had to crap on cling wrap. Every turd carefully wrapped and bagged. No evidence he had been there could be left behind; no traces left to be analysed later. He had to pee in a bottle. The great unwashed had every inconvenience imaginable but someone's gotta do it.

Two weeks to go before his wedding. The wolf was desperate to get home but failure wasn't an option.

If he couldn't get in the compound and he couldn't get a finger on when Majeed might leave his stronghold, then it's plain that capturing the animal that preyed on the vulnerable was less and less of an option. He just had to shoot him from a great distance. As of last count, this human asshole has been responsible for 500 asylum seekers dead at sea, over 60 overcrowded fishing vessels capsized in international water. Lucky for the few whose boats capsized in Australian waters and were spotted by the Coast Guard, at least they were rescued though severely traumatised. Not to mention, the hell families of these people go through in misery having begged and borrowed money to pay him the exorbitant fee it cost to ferry their relatives to hell.

The problem was Majeed hardly ever get out in the sun, not even to walk to his car. From his house to the garage was an undercover walkway that took him directly to his bullet proof 4W drive vehicle. He reportedly transverse the 100 metre distance in a golf buggy. _Lazy bastard!_

On day one, he had a glimpse of the middle-aged, paunchy Majeed playing with his six-year-old son, obviously the one he doted on the most. Bryce thought this was his only chance. He has to wait again till he got out to play with the little one. It was risky and there was potential for collateral damage. All he could do was do his level best to limit it to one kill but it could easily go sideways.

_Patience, Bryce, patience_. _As long as it takes_.

He checked his food and water supplies. He could stretch it to five, even seven days by strict rationing. It meant going with as little as 500 calories per day. It meant going home looking like a prisoner of war. Nevertheless, he would go home.

He has one shot and one shot only. A second or a third attempt would effectively lessen his chances of survival.

Now that he has determined how he would take Majeed out of the picture, he has to think how to avoid the dragnet that would blanket the area once it was known a home owner was assassinated. The how will come to him.

His thoughts were also consumed by his need to be home for his wedding. "See you soon, Pixie."

That night, Belle was wide awake. The moon was masked by heavy clouds. Standing by the window, gazing at the starlit heavens, keeping her eyes on the Southern Cross, she spoke to the man she loves, "I'll see you soon, my darling."

Abuja was nine hours behind Gregory Downs. Up on the tree that same 24-hour stretch, Wolf looked up the night sky, the Southern Cross beckoned for him to come home.


	44. Operation Get Majeed

_Author's Note: I would like to thank Annie, a new follower to this story, for her contribution to my research. She has lived in Abuja and knew Maitama District well. In some places, I quoted her directly. _

**Operation Get Majeed**

The Wolf's preparation has been clinical, no stones were left unturned. He has been a very busy boy in his first three weeks in-country; aside from roaming the streets in Maitama District; much of it he spent researching with a lot of help from an Asset on the ground.

The Asset, known to all and sundry as Porter Sprey (anagram of reporter/spy), a name made up by a geek; an example of a wise guy's brand of humour at ASIS, the CIA equivalent of Australia.

Porter was a well-connected man-about town in Abuja where he has lived for well over a decade. Famous not only for his bylines but for squiring society women to parties. In the last four years he has been on constant fly-in, fly-out into the River area, the oil-rich section of the country; monitoring activities and keeping an eye on who's who in the power industry. By and large, his regular business contacts were not the least bit suspicious of his frequent visits, after all the African News and Current Affairs Bureau Chief is expected to see things and ask questions for himself.

Porter first arrived in Lagos as a fresh-faced 20-something, just out of spy school. He arrived bearing only enthusiasm and charm when he commenced his cover as an intrepid journalist covering African affairs, reporting for the largest Australian newspaper group at that time. Over the years, to make his legend more believable, he has "joined" other news outfits at various times; then there were brief breaks from news reporting in between. Currently, he operated as Bureau Chief for Africa for an Australian television broadcaster.

The reporter/spy kept fit, a necessity in the event he has to go on the run at short notice relying only on his wits. Daily gym sessions at home was supplemented by rock climbing and bush walking on week-ends. And he kept his spy craft sharp. The Nigerian Intelligence Agency (NIA) didn't trust foreigners, so it didn't matter how well he kept in character, Porter knew he was always on their scope. At airports, he amused himself playing '_ping the stalker_' game; never booked himself in the same hotel on successive visits; didn't have a favourite hangout; and, with the exception of rock climbing various monoliths on week-ends, he hasn't done anything on a regular basis. His nickname among NIA agents was panther: sleek, smooth and has no patterns.

If an agent needed punishing, he was assigned to Porter since rock climbing wasn't for the faint-hearted; however, none has ever followed him up those rocks. He often wondered what they reported back to HQ.

In Abuja, rock climbers aspire to conquer Zuma Rock which marks the centre of Nigeria, Porter was no exception. The avid outdoors man has scaled it and much of the mountainous terrain in Abuja, including near and around the military installation; not that NIA agents ever found out.

Zuma Rock is an imposing natural phenomenon, a master stroke. It towers over 750 metres above the surrounding plains. The gigantic one kilometre rock berg is believed to be a symbol of strength and splendour in Nigeria. The surrounding landscape adds to its mystique. According to locals, the Zuma, if sighted from the far South, appears to resemble a human face. There are many different versions of folk tales about it, in most of the stories it is said to be home of powerful spirits.

As recently as 2008, rock climbing was not popular with Nigerians since they grew up hearing myth tellers claim that any one venturing near the rock will never return. All that changed when Zuma Rock was promoted by the State government as one of its major tourist attractions. These days rock climbers, both amateurs and experts; along with skeptics and naturalist from around the world gather and take pleasure in conquering the magnum and appreciating the unique natural rock formation, the aura of its mystery and the flavor of age-old myths.

On his first week in Abuja via Lagos, the Wolf arranged to meet Porter at the top of Zuma Rock. The Wolf arrived looking like a Taliban guerrilla, and smelt like one too. It was time well spent as far as Bryce was concerned. SIGNIT (Signal intelligence) could never take the place of HUMNIT (Human intelligence), so he picked the spy's brain and his wealth of knowledge.

The men sat cross-legged on the top of the Rock, sharing a meal and surveying the plains below them. The Wolf asked, "Have you ever been inside?"

"I'm working on it. I've met him on a couple of occasions. He hasn't been here long, just around six months. He doesn't go out a lot. I heard there's a private mosque in the compound. Aerial photographs don't show it, but I know there's a resident Imam at the house. The mosque is probably concealed; it's either within the house or well hidden in a crevice."

They reviewed some digital images from Porter's camera. One in particular showed a distinct feature, a protrusion of some kind jutting out from the mountain side. "When one looks at it, it appears to be a solid structure that was placed in the nook." The Wolf noted it, he would have to scope it closer. Porter deleted all the digital images as a precaution.

Porter also brought him up-to-date with regards to Nigeria's energy problem; ironically while oil rich, it still suffers from constant power outages. "The house has backup generator for sure, but there's a brief interval between when the public power supply goes out and when his private generation kicks in, about five minutes."

The spy also supplied him with a detailed City map, and discussed ingress and egress routes around Abuja, luckily Maitama District is bordered by intercity highways so escape and evasion shouldn't be a problem. The Wolf made a mental note to prioritise the study of the City's ins and outs, he would do this on buses and on foot.

Noting his physique, Porter gave the Wolf one unsolicited advice. "You should bulk up, mate. You'll need it."

The Wolf smiled, "Been eating for five."

"You could have fooled me," said the spy. For although he was himself fit as a fiddle, the Wolf was a different class in himself. Every muscle has its functionality. He wouldn't take on the SAS bloke on an offer of a punch up. Wiry, but there's a spring to the muscles he flexed.

It would be last light in a couple of hours, so the spy thought it was best for them to get moving, "Well then if there's nothing else..."

"There's one more thing." The wolf passed on his list of requirement. "I need them in two weeks."

"Two weeks."

Porter read the list: _motorbike, short-barrel high velocity rifle, bullets, muzzle suppressor, optic sight, light weight green and brown hammock with paracord ties at the end; high quality three-piece suit and tie, high quality leather shoes secured in water proof bag_. "Plenty of time then, see you 14 days from today."

Those intervening days the wolf spend on reconnaissance. His focus was the house, the surrounding neighourhood, the district itself and Phases One and Two of the wider City areas. Abuja is unique in many ways. Nigeria is the third largest African economy and it showed in its capital city. Development has been rampant in recent times. Phase One of the city is the most developed, with infrastructure already in place. Not surprisingly, Maitama District is in Phase One.

People at the top strata of business and society speak English with fluency but most Nigerians speak a version of pidgin English he found difficult to understand at first. But living rough, instead of living it up in fancy hotels; and listening to masses of people helped him get use to it quickly. By the end of his first week, he has adopted the slang, variation, inflection and the accent; but he has to be constantly mentally switched on. If he relaxed, his accent would slippery slide to _strine _(slang for Australian accent_)_. It is a requirement for Special Forces operative to speak one other second language proficiently. His was Bahasa Indonesia from his time in East Timor, a skill he kept sharp by speaking in the language whenever he bumps into Indonesians. He still has rudimentary use of Arabic from his time in Somalia. Being bi-lingual helped him pick up languages quicker.

The Wolf clandestinely met with the spy again 14 days later, this time at the top of Aso Rock, a large outcrop on the outskirts of Abuja. Aso is a 400 metre monolith, and it means "victorious" in the native language of the now displaced Asokoro (the people of victory) of Nigeria.

The spy gave him the address of a warehouse, "It's all there," he said. "Good luck."

Fast forward to day two of his stag watch. Paunchy Majeed has not been out to play with the little boy again. At any rate, Bryce has discounted this as a solution. He couldn't kill the bastard in full view of the little boy whose only crime was being born to the wrong father. It was one thing to kill Majeed but another to cause undue trauma to an innocent. _There has to be another way._

Weeks earlier, in another part of the globe, Richard H.M. Phillips returned to the USA. Mr Shades and Mr Cool decided to make a run for it, not that anyone could blame them. They knew what was in store for them, guilty or not. They just weren't prepared to risk it.

Phillips was met on the tarmac by FBI agents, handcuffed and brought in for questioning. He vehemently denied having any knowledge of the missing funds but the Federal Agency had problems believing it. _The Nest _was raided in their absence; allegedly all records and paper trails implicated him. "The evidence are compelling," said the head interrogator.

The fact that the Eagle was missing, to the investigator's mind, was an indication of his guilt; that he had done away with him. Phillips knew the screw was tightening when the interrogator asked point-blank where he hid the Eagle's body.

Toby, Tobias Williams, was also brought in for questioning. The interrogators as a way to rattle them planned it so they "meet" each other on the corridor. On seeing Toby, Phillips decided to take his chance, he shouted to the young man, "It's not me. I have nothing to do with it."

As they got closer, he saw that the young man's face was swollen, bruised and bloodied, he turned to his jailers. "Bastards, what have you done to him?"

"Don't blame us," answered one, "that's what prisoners do to traitors."

"Let him go, he has nothing to do with it."

"Well, give Uncle Sam back his money then he can go."

Toby jerked forward and shouldered his escort, "He didn't embezzle the money, it's Julius Fox. Go find him."

"We'll find him once you disclose where you buried him, asshole." It didn't help his cause that Toby butt-headed the FBI agent. In a split second, agents have swarmed and pounced on Williams to Phillips' horror and protests.

The questioning lasted days. The searches even more relentless. Phillips' life was shredded to pieces, every cupboard drawers upturned, and still not a cent to be traced. Somehow they were starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, Phillips didn't take the money. But how to reconcile the paper trail to the reality that faced them? It was a quandary of epic proportion.

Phillips was thrown into isolation.

Toby ended up in hospital with several bone fractures and laceration, a result of over enthusiasm on the part of able-bodied agents. The main and immediate concern was, according to the attending doctor's prognosis, the beating was so severe Toby arrived in a coma. "I can't tell you if he'll wake up and if he does, in what state he would be. If I were you I'd be teeing up with a lawyer."

When news filtered down to Phillips, he was heard screaming like a man possessed.

Belle has made headway on her search for the Eagle, Julius Fox, but she soon discovered that while he has digital footprints from 1980 until recently, there was none prior to 1980. She was sure, as sure as the sun rises in the East, that the identity was genuine, he wouldn't have got into the FBI otherwise. The scrutiny to get into the Agency was intense. _But where was he before 1980? And where is he now? _No matter how much she persisted, she didn't progressed much with her search. She was stymied. Stone-walled. Dismayed.

So she moved on to Grace Hawke. This time, she made a discovery but it engulfed her with grief. She turned off her computer and decided to start again in a couple of days. She went around for a walk in the paddock and thought that her darling would know what to do with what she found out. _I wonder how he is._

Meanwhile, as luck would have it, Bryce made a discovery of his own. An access inside Majeed's fiefdom. _Your days are numbered_. But still he has to be patient because entering the hornet's nest would be death-defying.


	45. The Hornet's Nest

Gruesome Alert but much has been left to your imagination

**The Hornet's Nest**

The means of ingress was supplied by a man wearing shalwar khameez and a skull cap. Perched high on the tree, he caught in his peripheral vision something whitish in a sea of green, the stark colour contrast getting his full attention. He turned his head at his 10 o'clock, high-powered bino glued to his eyes. A split second later, the figure of a man emerged from a rocky outcrop, walking towards the neighbouring property he was in.

He followed the man's progress. For a few seconds, the white skull cap disappeared from view. He stood stealthily up on a branch to scan a little better beneath the overgrown branches of trees and bushes, holding his breath. Then just as suddenly, the man reappeared, the white skull-capped head bobbing up and down as he marched forward, finally emerging out of a 'hole in the garden wall'.

By the looks of him, he was a Pakistani Imam, indicated by his traditional attire and the prayer beads in his hands. The Imam walked around the grounds in deep contemplation. Bryce checked his time, it was nearly time for _Asr_ prayer. The time of day in the late afternoon when Muslims are usually busy wrapping up the day's work, an important time to take a few minutes to remember God and the greater meaning of their lives.

There were hardly anyone about. Since arriving at his observation post (OP) yesterday morning, he counted just eight men. Six who took turns manning the gate and two who come and go between the main and the guards' house; from what little conversation he heard, they were Pakistanis, not Afghans.

His train of thought was disturbed when he heard car engines, turning to his four o'clock he saw seven vehicles. Two blacked-out Land Rovers waiting outside the gate to enter Majeed's property and five open-topped, Toyota pick-ups waiting to be let in in the neighbour's property where he has chosen to occupy a tree. Grim reality suddenly dawned on him, "Fuck me,"he muttered. The property was not the neighbour's as such, rather it was the HQ of Majeed's private army. How intel failed to pick up this crucial bit of information was beyond him. Unless, of course, this was a new development and therefore unforeseen. _Bloody hell! _

The men, armed with AK47s, jumped down from the pick-ups and jogged to a man-made water feature. Muslims believe they can pray anywhere, and since they believe they appear before God during prayer, they must purify themselves with water; and, in some instances with dust, the logic for this escapes him; for such an occasion. As the men queued to await their turn for ritual cleansing, he counted 57 men, including the prayer leader and the guards.

There were many things to take in. Next door, an unknown number of men streamed towards the crevice in the mountain where he first glimpsed the Imam's white skull-cap, it confirmed Porter's assumption that a mosque was built within its facade.

Here, just a few metres from his OP, prayer rugs were laid in perfect alignment on the ground, every man and his AK faced East towards Mecca. He observed in silence as the men exercised their faith. It gave him an idea: at _Maghrib_ prayer, the fourth formal Muslim prayer time, he would join them. _Maghrib_ is observed just after the sun goes down, when Muslims remember God again as the day begins to come to a close.

Hours passed, he checked his el cheapo time piece, **16:30** – local time. He closed his strained eyes and nearly nodded off to sleep when he heard noises coming from below and behind him. He steeled himself. For a moment he worried he might have given his position away. His brain quickly kicked into gear. _Did I fall asleep and snored?_

But, no, that wasn't it.

He stayed very still, not daring to move a muscle. There were two distinct voices. A man's frustrated, anxious voice _ssshing_ a crying boy of around 13. He could see where this was going and he didn't like it one little bit. The child reminded him of Rajo. He rubbed his face with his hand, desperate to save the child.

Between branches, he peered down and saw the head of a boy as he was forcibly made to kneel in front of a burly man. His eyes narrowed. Quietly, he cut a length off his hammock's paracord, looped each end in his toughened hands to create a noose. Planked on one of the branches, he braced his prone position against a fall with his feet by placing his ankle bone strategically under another branch. He was about to snuff the life out of the pedophile when he heard a voice call out, he turned to check the source of the sound. He lowered his head very slightly under an overhanging branch and was aghast to see a man masturbating four feet away waiting for his turn. Behind him a queue of another five. _Fuck me_.

Directly underneath him, the pubescent child was gagging with an erect penis in his mouth, weeping and struggling to get air. The Wolf gritted his teeth. He couldn't do anything now, the feeling of helplessness overpowered him.

The muffled cry rose two octane to a scream. The man slapped the child so hard it took all his self-control not to kill him right there and now, but he has to wait for the right moment to avenge the child. He would just have to kill the last man in the queue.

The man slammed the boy's face against the tree, then tore off his pants. Bryce could no longer trust himself to keep a lid on his rage as the boy begged and cried to be spared.

Then a bell rang! A call to a meeting, perhaps. The queue of sexually frustrated pedophiles quickly dispersed and moved off to the main house. But the man below was in the throes of orgasm. Now's the time.

Bryce, without hesitation, looped the paracord around the man's neck and yanked upwards as tightly and as hard as he could. He was still inside the boy when he was yanked. The sudden thrust upward pushed the boy face down to the ground; as he turned over, he saw the man's feet hanging a foot off the ground, jerking like crazy. He crawled mutely backwards terrified and confused.

The Wolf's muscles strained with the effort, lactic acid flooded his system. It took the man several minutes to die. But as soon as life was gone, the man's internal organs lost control, excrement and urine gushed out of him bodily. The smell assaulted Bryce's senses, it was beyond filthy. He lifted the man up and over the tree branch and left him there to dangle.

He must now make a move to get off his perch. It was now too dangerous. He has compromised his position, and his mission. Private armies behave like social insects. If a hornet is killed near a nest it release pheromone which can cause the other hornets to attack. He has just killed one of them, it wouldn't be long before the stench of death covered the ground and attack pheromones released.

He rolled his hammock and stuffed it back inside the pack. He checked around to make sure he has bagged everything. The tree was covered in boots scuffed marks, but that couldn't be helped. The merceneries would soon be up the tree looking for clues and would be looking for someone wearing a pair of military boots. He took the sandals off the dead man's feet and put them on.

He waited for the security cameras to pan the other way before tossing the boots out and over the other side. At nightfall, the dogs would be released unto the ground and they would, without a doubt, sniff the boots out. Hopefully he would be gone by then but he didn't really rate his chances.

He watched the watchers, when he was certain no one was looking, he jumped down the tree. Crouched low on his four limbs, he waited. He gripped the dead man's AK47, ready to make a run for it, but he heard noises in the undergrowth. He crouched lower and scanned the greenery and saw the terrified boy looking at him, lips clamped shut, scared out of his wits.

Eye to eye, Bryce softened his facial expression. He smiled and said, "It's ok." Ok being a universal word, the child seemed to understand.

Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he opened his pack and removed the green and brown hammock. He would use it as a make-shift ghillie. He crawled back steadily, not making any sudden movement, once he was behind some bushes, he covered himself with the hammock and he disappeared from view. He peeped and communicated with the boy with his eyes, encouraging him to keep his secret. Somehow, he sensed he was being understood. The child was still quivering as he sat on his haunches. The poor bugger must be in terrible pain. Minutes later, the child made a move.

He check his time, **17:30**. _Maghrib_ prayer would be called soon. The Imam reappeared on the ground waiting for the men to come out. Bryce could only hope air would be still. An updraft would carry the unmistakeable stench of excrement then all hell would break loose. The last thing he wanted was to be the sole focus of a pheromone attack.

Suffering from muscle cramp, he resisted the urge to move. Men were filling up the ground. Once again, prayer rugs were laid down and 57 men and their Aks faced east to pray towards Mecca.

**18:00. **He heard soft footsteps, he peeped out the ghillie and saw the boy's slight frame. The child was holding what appeared to be fabrics in his hand, if he was not mistaken it's a shalwar kameez. The boy extended his hands with the offering. Slowly, Bryce came out of his hiding place to receive it, and in exchange, he gave the boy the hammock.

The boy went into the bushes and covered himself. He wanted to disappear, he didn't want to ever to found again to be used and abused. Bryce clothed himself in the traditional Pakistani outfit; he too, disappeared and morphed into one of the mercenaries.

He hugged the garden wall till he reached the guard's accommodation, he tested the door knob, it wasn't locked. He let himself in and stashed his backpack inside a laundry basket, then filled it with clothes that were strewn on the floor.

As an observer, one thing became clear to him, the Pakistani guards were only allowed in the periphery of Majeed's property. The Afghan guards on the other side has accommodation within the mansion itself. Obviously the people-smuggler has racial preference for his own people. But one Pakistani was allowed to go to the other side: the Imam. So he hatched a plan to switch places with the prayer leader.

It was a glorious morning in Gregory Downs, Belle was up early, and so were Billy and Raf. They were going to the maternity clinic to have their second baby scan, called the first trimester combined screening.

"Are you ready?" asked the diminutive one.

"Yeah, let's go."

They were bubbling over with excitement. Belle jealously watched Baf playfully teased each other in the front seat. She chastised herself for being jealous, they deserve to be happy so she tried her hardest to share their joy.

She wondered what Bryce was up to. She glanced at her watch, 07:00am. Not knowing exactly where Bryce was, she decided he must be sleeping. "Sweet dreams," she murmured. She couldn't have been more wrong because after the fifth and final _Isha_ prayer of the day, the Wolf lain in wait for the Imam by the hidden passage. He stashed the body between the bushes and the granite rock of the mountain. With white skull-cap and prayer beads, the Wolf entered Majeed's ground via the mosque.

At **22:00** hours, local time, Bryce walked up the stairs towards the first floor above ground, forbidden territory to anyone not a family member. Well, he thought, he simply has to make himself one of the family.

Somewhere in Virgina, Julius Fox was enjoying the life of privilege in a lake-side, renovated colonial estate home with custom moulding, chair rail & wainscoting throughout. It was made of the finest hardwood, Italian marbles and tiles.

The first level housed an elegantly furnished formal living room; gourmet kitchen with its custom cabinetry and new appliances, a showcase of elegance; crystal chandelier dining room; recreation room with the latest electronic gadgetry; media room which also served as his digital library; and a sophisticated security control room. Also on the first level were three bathroom/toilets.

The second level housed the master bedroom with an en suite. Off to one side was a walk-robe and a secret panic room. There were four other rooms, all with its own en suite.

The garden was well tended. Hardwood trees and azaleas the main floral feature. The lake perfect for fishing, rowing and paddle boating. Tranquil country living at its best!

The Eagle sat cross-legged on the lawn still in his pajamas, reading the morning papers. **Ex-FBI charged with treason.** He, sort of, felt sorry for the headliner, he had nothing but admiration for the man; he rationalised that collateral damage couldn't be avoided. Inside, on page 3, a news article in connection with the front page news reported the death of a young man. The last paragraph caught his attention: 'Life support machine was turned off at the request of the victim's estranged father.'

Inside his cell, Richard Phillips stared at the wall. The sniper practiced sniping mentally, because it's all in the mind. One day, they'll let him out. One day, he'll find the Eagle. He would live one day at a time for that day.

At FBI HQ, Jennifer Brynes, Phillips' former partner was fighting tooth and nail to clear him, "We have to look beyond one convenient suspect," she said. "This is tunnel vision at its worst."

The lead investigator though was unconvinced, "We can't just ignore the facts."

"I'm not asking to ignore the facts, I'm saying we have to widen the search for suspect. And until we know for a fact Julius is dead, he should be a person of interest." But she was pushing against an immovable object.


	46. Finger on the Trigger

**Finger on the Trigger  
**

From the bottom of the stairs, he heard a cacophony of happy voices, crackling laughter of females and children. Up there, no one has any worldly worries. Hidden from view down at the darkened stairwell, he stayed put for a few minutes to listen. He heard footsteps. Coming down the stairs. His eyes has adjusted to the dimly-lit stairwell and could see the form of an Afghan servant.

Receding further into the wall, the Wolf waited for the servant to make it down the last step before he made a move. He grabbed the servant from behind, clasped a hand over the mouth; with the fingers of the other hand, he pinched the nose close until the Afghan passed out. He dragged the unconscious man under the stairs, bound and gagged him. "Sorry mate," he uttered. "You'll come around soon enough. He tore off a piece of cloth from the man's lily white uniform and used this to tie his legs together. "Don't wake too soon, mate."

The Afghan was at least five inches shorter than him which was a pity, he could use the uniform to gain unimpeded access to the upper levels but it gave him an idea. _The servants' quarters has to be on this level._ Sensing he was alone, he padded down the corridor on tip-toe, tried one door. It opened easily. Clearly no one here was security conscious, relying entirely on the perimeter security measures and cameras. Obviously everyone thought it was such an impregnable fortress, how wrong they were. _All it takes is one weak link. Always_.

He entered what could easily have been the laundry area. Hanging along the length of a wall were pressed uniforms arranged according to length. He chose one long enough to cover his feet. A cupboard stored plastic wrapped beaded footwear worn by servants, he reached up to one on the highest shelf and found a pair that would just fit him. He was about to put them on when a another servant walked in and challenged his presence. He went into immediate action and punched the wind out of the man with a well-aimed hit on the solar plexus. The man was rendered unconscious when he gave him a knuckle in the throat.

Offense in close quarter combat is counter-intuitive. If you want to preserve life you have to be ruthless. Hit the opponent hard to get him down fast. Be gingerly about it and it could escalate to a kill or die scenario. This way, the opponent gets to see another day albeit in pain for a few days.

He finished tying the man up and he pondered what gave him away. He was dressed immaculately, having changed into a freshly pressed servant's uniform. It suddenly dawned on him that he smelled like a panicked skunk. He has to shower off the lingering stench of deadly body odor.

Further investigation revealed a shower and bathroom that should be declared a bio-hazard zone. He gritted his teeth as he step inside the shower cubicle with the Pakistani's sandals still on his feet; but he quickly retreated when he noticed that the drain was clogged with masses of tangled black hair. He found an empty plastic bag and used this as a make-do glove, scooped out the hair and ran the water for a bit. Ten seconds passed and the water stayed cold. No hot water available for the lower level occupants.

He found western labelled shampoo and conditioner and a bar of unopened soap. He scrubbed as hard as he could in the time he hoped he had before more of them return from their servitude. There was one more thing he observed, both servants had no facial hair. It has to be for recognition purposes, either there's a facial scanner up there or someone been tasked to stay on guard. It wasn't going to be as easy as it seemed. But too late to back out now.

He stepped out of the shower, rummaged for a razor, found it. He remembered the plastic bag full of hair. He placed this open-necked on the sink that's caked with dirt and muck. He has to be careful not to nick himself_. _The last thing he needed was infection as germs enter his bloodstream from an open wound, not when he wasn't carrying anti-biotic with him.

The razor was dull. _ This is going to be a pain. _ It was hard going but he got there in the end. The outcome was he looked like a 3-D map of Gregory Downs. Parts of his face was bushy, some parts dry, some parts bumpy. _It will have to do. _He re-entered the shower to remove hair stuck on him. Seconds later, he stepped out of the cubicle, dressed up though still dripping wet, he slipped on the beaded footwear. He has spent too much time getting things just so but it has to be done right.

Twelve days to his wedding day, he tried not to think about it.

It was a smooth two-hour drive to the nearest maternity clinic. After the scans, Belle, Billy and Raf went shopping for nursery stuff for BB's baby. Baf decided to shop for their bubba in Toronto. "We don't fancy carting the baby's stuff with us," said Billy.

Belle wished Bryce was home doing this with her, but she didn't stay melancholic for long. The baby booties were so cute and adorable. And the the bond suits. Just the sight of the cutesy items was enough to lift her mood.

"I wouldn't buy triple 0 size if I were you."

"Mum," they chorused.

"Not to scare you, Bella but Bryce was born on the upper scale of weight and height for new born, slightly over five kilos (ten pounds, more or less)."

"Yeah, that wasn't meant to scare her," joked Raf.

The thought of his wedding was stubborn and wouldn't let go, so Bryce succumbed to its urgency. _It has to be now or never._ He exhaled. Stared in the mirror and psyched himself up for the task ahead. Steadied his breathing before walking off. He paused at the bottom stairwell as a sense of doom gripped his heart. _Fucking hell._ Everything was stacked against him but too late to back out now.

He walked up the dimly-lit stairs like he belonged but no handy excuse at a ready as to what he's doing where he didn't belong at such an ungodly hour. He reached the final landing. The interior was odd. There was nothing but a long winding staircase leading to the second floor and a walled corridor.

**He checked the time, it was now 23:00 hours local**. He heard sound, the wailing of a sleepless child, coming from behind the wall. Suddenly it parted and Majeed's six-year old burst through, with a nanny in the chase. "Mahmoud."

The child made for his leg and went under his floor-length uniform, playing hide and seek with the nanny or else just trying to escape the tyranny of sleep. The Afghan woman gasps in humiliation. He smiled, lifted his garb up and the woman averted her eyes. He took the child in his arms, and pacified the nanny with a hand gesture.

He patted Mahmoud's back, memories of putting Rajo to sleep flooded into his consciousness and brought a smile to his face. The child rested his face on his shoulder and soon fell asleep. Now it was awkward.

He realised that the first floor above ground was designed as such so male servants could go up and down between the second level and the male servants' quarter without once seeing the female occupants, that was until Mahmoud opened the wall which slid out on tract. It would be a hanging offense for an Afghan woman to let a man inside. Her eyes showed undisguised panic. All it would take was for another servant, or for the other occupants, wives and daughters, to see them and she'd be dead.

Bryce had an idea, he motioned for her to walk away and hoped she'd obey without question. She did. Compliance being well-ingrained. She moved to the far-end, it must be the toilet or the female servants' quarter. Once she was out of sight, he closed the wall slowly and quietly. With the sleeping child on his arm, he went up the second floor. Two guards were posted at the door, sleeping on sentry. Bryce shook his head and mentally tsk'ed to himself. _Naughty boys_.

He hopped over them, careful not to trip over their extended legs. He was about to enter the first room of the second level when the light went out. Then he remembered the power outages. He waited until his eyes adjusted to night darkness before making a move. He has five minutes to access the third level, it's now or never. Something told him he should sticky beak in there while he could.

They just finished morning tea. Billy and Raf excused themselves. "I'm taking Hetty Darling to see a movie, we'll pass by Mum's on the way home."

"Ok see you later," said Belle, still beaming with happiness.

"Take care, kids. I'll take Belle home with me, see you later."

"Oh, Mum, feel the baby. It's kicking." Sue put her hand on Belle's growing belly and felt enormous joy. Then she was hit with a flitting sadness, realising suddenly that Billy and Raf's baby would be born on the other side of the world and that she'd miss out on seeing one grandchild. _Oh well, that's life_.

Four minutes before the generator kick in. He opened the door to the third level office. A figure was hunched over the humungous desk. The man raised his head and aimed a silenced Luger at him. The Wolf's eye balls looked down and watched mesmerised at a glowing red dot dancing on his chest, just where his heart beats._ Shit!_

Richard Phillips hasn't spoken a word since Toby's death. The estranged father didn't waste anytime suing the American Government for squillion for the wrongful death of the son he abandoned as a three-year old boy. But the way he was crying his eyes out, pouring his heart out on national television, one would think he was Father of the Year.

The young man Phillips took under his wings was buried in a pauper's grave. Someone he regarded as a son. Someone who was full of promise and someone who punched above his station to make it to the FBI from a teen homeless shelter was dead and every one was feeding off his carcass.

Phillips stayed mute. It didn't matter what they said, he stared at the wall.

His sharp mind fingered the L115A3 sniper rifle. It fires an 8.59mm bullet, heavier than the 7.62mm round of the previous L96 and hence less likely to be deflected over extremely long ranges. Put the 6.8kg rifle in the right hands and it can hit a human-sized target from 1400 metres. The muzzle velocity of the L115A3 is 936 metres per second.

He dismantled it, oiled it, cleaned it. He put them back together. Fed the bullets. Sighted it. Zeroed it on target. Brought it again to his eye. Breath in. Held his breath. Aimed. Seven seconds. He squeezed the trigger. Eight seconds. The bullet was in flight. Nine seconds. He slowly breath out. Ten seconds. The Eagle was dead.

He entered the state of Zen. He repeated the scenario in his head. This time he used the Tac .50 sniper rifle.

Jennifer Brynes came to see him. "I know you can hear me., so please listen. I know you're innocent. There are many who believe you're innocent. Hang in there, pal. Hang in there. I'll find Fox. I will, that's a promise."

Bryce slowly looked up at the trigger man, his life flashed in front of him!


	47. Failure is Not an Option

**Failure is Not an Option**

The Wolf knew from the size of him he wasn't Afghan; and not a member of the family either. In complete night-darkness, his eyes slowly adjusted, the form he saw was gargantuan. He has to be the Pathfinder.

_He has to be._

Bryce gambled on the possibility that he might be working for Her Majesty's Service.

_Why else would he be rummaging in the dark in Majeed's off_ice?

"It's ok, mate." Slowly, he laid the sleeping child across his chest. It was an evil thing to do to an innocent life but bugger it, he has to get out alive or die trying.

He didn't recognised the wiry man, he knew all the hand-picked guards in the compound by sight. "Who're you?" the man challenged in a thick Scottish accent. The Scot straightened to his full height. Bryce whistled internally. He was approximately 6'5, probably 120 kgs, armed and dangerous. _Fuck me_. Nothing separates an SAS from a Pathfinder, both are well trained killing machines, plus he has weapon and ground advantage. Bryce was having a massive flap but he tried to stay calm and focused.

"SASR, that's all you need to know." There was no need for secrecy now so he laid his card on the table. "I'm tasked to lift Majeed."

The Pathfinder snorted, "You sure you got the right one."

"He's leverage."

The Scot motioned for him to step forward. Bryce moved carefully. The gun was still trained on him. Steady and fearsome. Finger on the trigger. "Open the door." Bryce obeyed without question, not a good idea to antagonise a sharp-shooter. He couldn't miss at 500 metres, he certainly wouldn't miss at close range.

Bryce stepped inside. It was a panic room. Sound-proofed. Just then, the light came back on. For the first time, they met face-to-face. Bryce stared at the most piercing blue eyes he has ever seen. He lowered the heated temperature. "Name is Cameron. Bryce Cameron."

"Blakeley. Jason Blakeley. I'll let you out of here, alive. But I can't let you take Majeed."

"Sorry to disappoint you, mate. I'm not leaving without him."

The Scot grinned. "I admire your bravery but seeing that I have the gun and command of 24 Afghan guards and just taken fresh delivery of 50 Pakistani mercenaries, I fail to see that you have a choice."

Bryce coldly stated the fact. "That man is responsible for sending hundreds of asylum-seekers to their death..."

"Cut the lecture, that man sells bio-hazards to terrorists. We have solid intel he's selling a dirty bomb destined for the UK. If you think for one minute I'll let you have him before I know who's buying the bomb and where it's going... you have another thing coming."

"We're on the same side, mate." Bryce hissed. "How 'bout, for one minute, we forget I'm Aussie and you're a great Scot... let's just lift the scumbag for humanity's sake. With him out the way, that bomb won't go near the UK. Problem solved."

"Ya think? Don't be naïve. We eliminate Majeed, another one takes his place, and we still have no idea who's buying the dirty bomb. Sorry, but I've been here nine fucking months to let you ruin it." The pair of blue eyes watered. "I've not seen my wife and daughter for nine months. I've sacrificed enough. No fucking shit, he's mine. Failure is not an option."

But Bryce was persistent. Failure was not an option for him either. "I'm tired of this shit mate and so are you. Look at you, another day in this shit-hole and you're gonna lose it. Grab his hard drive and his files. Let's take him. You have enough to work on."

Jason emphasised, "I. Still. Don't. know. Who's. Buying," blue eyes boring into him.

Bryce looked down on the child in his arm and had a thought. Jason read his mind. They're both fathers and there's nothing in the world they wouldn't do to protect their young one. "We turn him. We use Mahmoud as leverage. Mate, all he has to do is believe is that we're capable of torturing his favourite son and he'll sing like a canary."

Jason paced for a minute. "I have a plan." Bryce smiled at the Pathfinder.

The child woke up. He blinked once. Twice. Trice. Fear gripped him, he didn't recognise the man holding him but seemed relieve to see Jason.

The men eyed each other. Neither one wanted to be the one to do it but someone has to. Jason slapped the child, red welt quickly spread on his cheek. Bryce recorded the scene on his phone. All of it: A toughened hand hit the small face. The child wailed. Sobbing uncontrollably, begging for his father to come rescue him. Jason left the panic room, went down as fast as he could to the guards' barracks housed in the lowest level of the mansion.

Bryce waited five minutes before calling Majeed's private cellphone. The people-smuggler and death trader woke up from deep slumber, answered the phone expecting someone from overseas; instead his blood froze upon hearing the hysterical voice of his child. Calling out to him, hyperventilating.

Majeed jumped out of bed. Rushed out and kicked the slouched and sleeping guards off their seats. Berated them angrily, shouting obscenities. A minute later, his Chief of Security came thundering up the steps, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "What happened? What's all the commotion?"

"Mahmoud. Someone took Mahmoud."

They rushed to the first level, where they found the nanny whimpering. Eyes red from crying. She explained that she went to the bathroom, when she returned the child was gone. She was given a slap so hard she spun 180 degrees. Jason caught Majeed's leg as he aimed to kick her. "Don't waste time kicking her ass. Not her fault."

Bryce sent a text message. "Follow my instructions and you'll get your boy back. Get a helicopter on the roof, you have one hour."

The people smuggler read the text message. "He wants me to get a helicopter."

"What do you want to do?"

Majeed gave his security chief a look that could kill. "What do you think?"

"Then what?"

"I don't know." Majeed felt a mix of fear and rage but he desperately wanted his boy back. Family member gathered round, wondering what happened.

Jason looked out the window. "I'm sure he hasn't gone far, I'll get the men to search the grounds."

"I want them to search the grounds, the mountain behind, the whole damn neighbourhood."

Jason rushed out without saying another word. He went on the Communication link and commanded every man and dogs to scour Maitama District. "Don't come back until Mahmoud is found." Seventy men and five dogs left the premises. Meanwhile, Bryce and Mahmoud were holed up in the hermetically-sealed, sound-proofed panic room; away from all the drama unfolding below.

Jason escorted the family members to the first and second level panic rooms. "It's just a precaution," he said. "Don't come out for 24 hours," then he left them.

He returned to Majeed who was yapping away on the phone to a friend, begging to borrow a helicopter. One friend could supply an EC 120b Eurocopter for a fee. "Anything," he bellowed in a high-pitched panicked voice.

The state of the art, new generation Eurocopter has a maximum speed of 150 knots, a rate of climb of 5.84 metre per second or 1,150 feet per minute. It could reach height of 20,000 feet, and hover at 17,000 feet from take-off power. Most importantly, it has maximum range at recommended cruise speed, without fuel reserve, of 710 km, twice the necessary capacity to escape to neighbouring Benin.

Forty five minutes later, at the cost of US $50,000 a day hire, an EC120b landed on the roof top. Majeed paced anxiously, willing for another text or call to come through. When it did, it was another recording of his son in extreme pain. He cursed loudly. Jason stood stony-faced, waiting for the next instruction.

It soon came. "Get on the helicopter and instruct the pilot to take you to Benin."

The people-smuggler and death trader turned to Jason. "He wants me to go to Benin. You're coming with me."

The Pathfinder nodded. "No problem, I've got your back. But there's one thing, I need you to put on your kevlar vest for protection." Getting Majeed and himself fitted with the protective gear took 15 minutes. Jason deliberately taking his time, feigning concern for his employer.

Together, they walked up to the roof-top. Boarded the helicopter. Majeed had a close encounter with heart attack when he found the pilot bound on the passenger seat. Bryce, in servant's uniform, was at the control. Worse still, his bound and gagged child was on the kidnapper's lap.

Jason kicked his butt, "Get in." Majeed sat rigid on the passenger seat. "Move an inch asshole and I'll throw you out of the helo," Jason warned. "Strap yourself in." The Scot closed the door and Bryce lifted off.

At a cruising speed of 150 knots, it took a mere hour and forty minutes to reached Benin airspace. Bryce and Jason flipped a coin to decide where to take Majeed, the Australian or the UK Embassy. As luck would have it, it was tail, Bryce took custody.

Jason and Bryce attended debriefing overnight. It could go on for days if the boys did nothing to speed things up. The intel guys went for a break, the boys took off. A sheepish looking intelligence guy reported that Bryce Cameron, SASR and Jason Blakeley, UKSF, Pathfinder disappeared from the interview room. The Boss, a former SAS, shrugged and said, "We'll catch up to them eventually."

Twenty four hours later Majeed's family found out the hard way that their patriarch won't be returning any time soon and that the good life was over. The first they knew of it was when the Nigerian Army raided the mansion and deported the mercenaries from Pakistan and Afghanistan. Weeks later, Majeed's ill-gotten wealth would be seized and carved up between Nigerian warlords.

In the confusion that ensued following the raid, a 13 year boy came out of the compound unchallenged and unnoticed. Underneath his shalwar kameez was a pouch full of gold coins. Tucked under his arm was the brown and green hammock, his life-saving ghillie. He looked up to the sky and offered thanksgiving to Allah for the man who saved his life in more ways than one.

At Benin Airport, Jason and Bryce boarded the same flight for London. At Heathrow, their path diverged. One went further North, the other further South.

Hawko went up to see Grace again. It's his ritual every day to see to his daughter, the apple of his eyes.

Today was not like any other day. Today, he found her hanging from the rafter of her veranda. The sweeping heavenly valley view turned hellish. A scream of utter, utter despair punctured the air. A father in grief as he hugged his daughter's lifeless body left dangling by fate's cruelty.

Hours later, he cut her down and gently laid her to rest on the floor. He dug a burial ground and made a promise to find out what and who and why.

The not knowing has eaten him alive. Consumed him. Engulfed his heart until only embers of anger remained.

He went inside. On the kitchen bench was a note in her beautiful script, "I'm sorry Daddy, I tried to go on but couldn't. I love you."


	48. Mateship

**Mateship**

Halfway across the Pacific, Bryce sent an invite to mates scattered around the world. It was a simple invitation, sent via email. "You're invited to my wedding." He supplied the date and the coordinates, then added a cheeky postscript. "Sorry for the late notice, I wasn't certain I could be home for my own wedding til today."

He received some very cheeky RSVPs and some abusive and pissing retorts which made him guffaw with laughter. There was one person from whom he expected unreserved stick but it never came. He anxiously checked his text messages and email when he reached Changi International. Nothing. Like he dropped out the face of the earth. He has a bad feeling about it. The closer he got to Sydney the worse it became. Less than a week before his wedding and his Mum's birthday, he hasn't done any preparations, but that felt unimportant at the moment.

The Singapore Airline flight landed at Kingsford International Airport just after 06:00 hours, Eastern Standard Time. He called Belle from a payphone in Sydney. "Remember me?" he said.

Her heart skipped. She was momentarily speechless. Could it be Banjo playing a really bad trick on her? No, unlikely, she thought. So she tentatively said, "Darling?"

"You expecting someone else? I'm disappointed."

Then she laughed and cried at once, "No, no," she protested. "I just can't believe it. Where are you calling from?"

"Sydney. I'll be home in a couple of days... I'll pass by Hawko first."

Her heart thudded loudly. "Uh, about Grace, I found something but I didn't know what to do about it."

"We didn't expect you to. Love you. See you soon."

"Love you, take care."

When she hanged up the phone, she was delirious with joy. "Billy! Billy!" she was hollering with excitement. She rushed out of the house and realised no one was around. She looked up to the great blue and white expanse of endless sky, streaked with red and purple as the sun dropped on the horizon. Arms up on her side, she twirled around and danced with joy and thanked God for the good news. "Oh, I can't wait. I can't wait."

She went inside and did the next best thing. She phoned Sue, then Billy to share the good news.

Feeling an increasing sense of urgency, Bryce hired a car. The one thing good going for him was that the worst of peak-hour traffic was over, driving to Brooklyn took him just under two hours. On approach, he felt bad vibes. The fisherman's cottage has an eerie feel about it. Outside, it was completely dark yet the interior of the house was also clothed entirely in blackness. _Something's not right_.

He knocked on the door, "Hawko, mate, it's Camo." He twisted the door knob. The door wasn't locked. He pushed it slightly ajar, at that very instance he was assaulted by stench of vomit. He heaved as he pushed the door wide open to release the trapped rancid air. He felt for the light switch. The light bulb flickered on and off, it was a couple of seconds before light came on, illuminating the state the house was in.

He went inside, gingerly side-stepping the rubbish that was strewn about. Vomit double-coated the floor, the table, the sink. There was hardly any surface that wasn't covered in it. "Hawko?" His calls were greeted with silence. Complete deafening silence. He could only hear his own controlled breathing. He opened the window, cross ventilation whipped up the stench.

He went in the bedroom, switched on the light. It was in worse state than the living and dining rooms. He cross the corridor to the bathroom. The smell here was overpowering. He was starting to flap big time. _Fucking shit!_ He moved the door with his foot, it creaked on its hinges. Hawko was passed out of the tiled floor, face down.

He was starting to lose it now, fearing the worse. He checked for a pulse, relief! He turned Hawko over and knew instantly that he was suffering from alcohol poisoning. He debated with himself whether he should call for an ambulance; in the end, he ruled against it.

He half-carried, half-dragged Hawko to bed. Checked his airways, breathing and circulation. He seemed ok. He cleaned up the bedroom, starting with the piles of dirty clothes that were every where except the laundry basket; mopped up the sick off the floor, wardrobe, side tables and those projected up the side of the walls. He disinfected the bed post; stripped the bed and changed the linens while Hawko laid prone on it. He started on one side, then rolled Hawko over to the other side to finish the job.

His former CO moaned in his sleep. He looked severely dehydrated. _I've got to put something in him_. He looked around the room. _There has to be a medical kit here somewhere... _because that's just how they think and operate. He stood on a stool to see over the top of the wardrobe. There it was. He opened the bag and found isotonic solution. He briefly debated with himself whether he should insert the IV, he could potentially kill Hawko if he has counter-indications to normal saline IV therapy. _Ah, sod it, he'll live_. He watched Hawko for over half an hour before he was convinced he'll be right.

He cleaned the bathroom next. He turned on the shower to steam off the caked-on chuck on the shower stall. It was a bloody job for HAZMAT. The rest of the bathroom, especially the tub, was so bad the only way to clean it was to hose it down. He went round the back to feed the garden hose through the window. Two hours later, it was gleaming. His Training Officer would be so proud.

He checked on Hawko again, his face wasn't quite so pallid. That could only be good.

He attacked the living room and got it sanitised in under an hour. He simply bagged everything and binned them. There was no chance of salvaging even a cushion or a doily. Even the remaining shred of curtain fabric had to go. At least, a set of hardwood lounge, minus cushions, was saved.

He checked on Hawko again. He seemed to have aged 10 years since he last saw him; and that was just four weeks ago. Alarmingly, he noticed scabs on Hawko's wrist. "What the hell?" He inspected both arms closely, the scabs covered what were several feeble tries at slashing his own wrist. The hand that made those slashes were unsteady. He was likely too drunk to make a successful attempt at suicide.

Bryce went to the combined kitchen and dining room. He was famished. He opened the fridge and found nothing but beer and hard liquor. Not a bite to eat. He cleaned up instead, attacking the kitchen bench like there was no tomorrow; that's where he found Grace's suicide note. _Oh jeez..._

Stunned, he read it three times over. He braced himself on the bench. He set the note aside for it wasn't his business to get rid of it. Hawko would do it when he's ready. Meantime, all he could do was make his house habitable again.

It was midnight by the time Bryce allowed himself sleep, sitting beside good ole' Hawko.

It was morning when Hawko stirred. Bryce opened his eyes.

Sad, dull, lifeless brown eyes stared back at him. Bryce leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Mate, Belle found something." He hoped that was enough to encourage Hawko to keep going, something to give him purpose. Hawko nodded, tears streaming down his face. Then, it became torrential. The sob became a wail. He turned over and screamed into his pillow, pulled his leg up like a kid in pain.

Bryce touched his shoulder and squeezed firmly. He left Hawko alone, to allow him dignity in his grief. In the kitchen, he boiled water and found instant coffee. He helped himself to a steaming mug. Suddenly, he realised Hawko's been very quiet. _Fuck_!

He was about to rush in when Hawko appeared. "Where's mine?" he said. "You come to my house, help yourself to my hospitality, drink my coffee and couldn't be arse to make one for me." Bryce smiled. "Here, take mine."

"Like hell, I would."

"Go shower, you stink. I'll make you a cuppa."

He's never known the old geezer to take more than five minutes in the shower. But this time, he was in there for half an hour. There's nothing like hot, raining water for grief therapy. When Hawko reappeared, he had a holdall with him. "Where's that coffee?"

He drank the liquid, smiled, and commanded authority. "Let's go, soldier."

Bryce sent a short text message to Belle, "Driving home with Hawko, sorry for the delayed homecoming."

They loaded a canoe and a paddle on the roof rack, tied it down firmly and drove three days to Gregory Downs. Stopping and starting along the way. Contemplating life without Grace. Then he had to make the hardest call of all, telling ex-wife Gemima, Grace's mum, the bad news. Thank God there was no hysteria. No blame. No swear words. No tears. Just a stiff upper-lip response of "Thank you for letting me know," spoken with whispered dignity. She was always put-together, Gemima. He wondered what attracted him to her in the first place. They were polar opposites.

She closed the call with, "Please look after yourself. She would want that. I want that."

"You, too, look after yourself." He has never, ever, felt more estranged from anyone than at that moment of what should have been their shared grief. But he understood that people grieve in their own way.

One kilometre to Cairns, Bryce stopped the car. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm alright."

"I'm expecting a few people there who knows you, you know how the lads are."

"Bring it on," he said. "I'm fine, don't worry."

They dropped the car back to the rent-a-car place and dropped in on Hopo by taxi. Banjo was waiting there with the Bell helicopter, playing billiard with the hard-nosed SAS operative.

Bryce pressed the bell, Hopoate aka Tiny opened the door. "You sure like to cut it fine, mate, two days till the wedding."

Hopo caught a glimpse of Hawko, "Fuck me, Boss!"

Hawko quickly replied, "I don't think so." They hugged warmly. Long distance has not diminished their shared affection and respect for each other.

Bryce introduced Banjo. "Good to meet you, sir."

"Hawko, just Hawko."

"Well, let's go."

The helo hovered over what looked like Camp Holland, the Australian camp in Tarin Kowt, Afghanistan. There were military jeeps parked on the ground. Several motorbikes. Tents have been pitched. Make-shift teepee and wigwams erected. Hammocks tied on hastily erected poles. Half naked men sunning themselves on bales of hay. _Bloody hell, what must Belle think of all this_.

The helo landed and several blokes gathered round to greet them. One of the guys said, before the blades completely whined down, "Some wedding party this is... 72 blokes and not one chick. I was better off at Camp Barracks, you shite."

"Tosser."

Belle came out of the homestead looking divine in a cute babydoll dress. Pale pink, in simple A – line, sleeveless design, with lace edging and crochet trims that added a distinct sense of vintage femininity. She paired this with a pair of ankle-strapped roman sandals. She was grinning from ear to ear. Bryce excused himself, ran to his wife, scooped her up and swirled her around. "I missed you."

She hugged him tightly, rested her face on the crook of his neck.

He put her down, looking at the boys, he asked, "Have they given you a hard time?"

"Not really. They're just rowdy, that's all." He laughed. Rowdy's the least of his worry.

"Hawko's here."

She waved at him and her heart stood still. The worse was yet to come, she didn't know Grace was gone, in consideration of her wedding and Sue's birthday, Hawko would keep it to himself til the last guest leaves. A favourite Bible verse came to mind and it comforted him.

_There is a time for everything,  
and a season for every activity under the heavens:_

_a time to be born and a time to die,  
a time to plant and a time to uproot,  
a time to kill and a time to heal,  
a time to tear down and a time to build,_

_a time to weep and a time to laugh,  
a time to mourn and a time to dance,  
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,  
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,  
a time to search and a time to give up,  
a time to keep and a time to throw away,  
a time to tear and a time to mend,  
a time to be silent and a time to speak,  
a time to love and a time to hate,  
a time for war and a time for peace._

_Ecclesiastes 3:1-8_


	49. Prelude to a Wedding

**Prelude to a Wedding**

Fourth of May – The Cameron brothers and rope-in Raf Rousseau, the not-so-sane Canadian who married their sister Billy, along with a handful of elite soldiers decided now was the time to decide who was supreme. Supreme canoeist, that was.

Every year, on the Sunday of the May Day weekend, which this year coincided with Sue Cameron's birthday, Gregory Downs hosts one of the world's toughest canoeing marathons. The 43-kilometre section of the Gregory River on which the race is held consists of long deep water holes separated by sets of rapids and fast flowing bends. Participants must complete the entire 43 kilometres in one day, starting at the Knobbies and finishing at the bridge to qualify as a finisher.

For obvious reason, the brothers and the wedding guests were not able to participate in the fifth of May event so they organised their own. "I'm going to win this for you, pixie," declared Bryce to his beloved.

She didn't share his enthusiasm. "For crying out loud, Bryce, 43-kilometres in one day, are you insane?"

He gave her a quizzical look, which she took to mean, _'Are you just finding that out now?_' She exhaled in exasperation. "What can I do to stop you?"

"You can't," he said, "but I love you." He kissed her fully on the mouth then proceeded to snap on his black wetsuit. Together, they went out to find about 40 men, all in black wetsuit with their canoes at a ready.

"So, princess, are you ready to get a dunking?" challenged Bernard Mabo Cameron, Royal Australian Navy Diver. But he was not just any diver, he was a Clearance Diver (CD). CDs are the Australian Defence Forces' specialist divers task with diving missions to render safe, and dispose of, conventional explosive ordnance and improvised explosive devices to depths of 54 metres.

Bryce often thought how everyone worried about him being an SAS, when he reckoned his brothers and sister's professions were far riskier than his own.

Bryce and Bernie though has a thing going between them. Not much separated the two, skills-wise, since Bryce was with the SAS' Water Troop at the start of his selection. Water Troop is the water specialist team of the SAS. That being the case, there's always been a lot of chest-puffing between the two. Although admittedly, the annual canoeing race has always been Bernie's bragging right.

The man, known to his Navy mates as Merlin, was unbeatable in the water, be it in swimming, diving, platform diving, sailing or canoeing. On land and in the air though he was a clutz.

"Watch out, mate," replied Bryce. "I'm gonna win this for Belle." He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her in front of the lads. Rajo looked on with pride at his parents' affection for each other.

"Don't believe a word he says," said the one they called 'Choir Boy'. "He's only saying that to get in your pants." Everyone laughed and he got a thumping on the head, "Idiot, he's been and gone." Belle reddened. And the boys had a laugh at her expense.

"Lads, let's better crack on." They all turned at the commanding voice. Hawko, at the ripe-old age of 60, still ripped and rarin' to go. Wearing a similar black wetsuit, his canoe over his left shoulder and a paddle on his right hand, he showed them how it's done. He loaded his gear onto the back of Bryce's Ute and waited for the lads to follow. Without much ado, 10 military jeeps were quickly loaded with gears.

Belle's eyes sought only the Cameron brothers who all uniformly shouldered their canoes on their left; only Raf carried his over his right shoulder. She suddenly noticed Rajo was holding his Dad's hand.

"Rajo," she called out. He looked back and said, "I'm on Dad's team."

"What!" she said in horror as she gave chase.

"We're a tandem," said Bryce. She was about to protest when she saw the look on their son's face so she gave in. "Ok," she said with great reluctance. Kissing the boy on the cheek, she nevertheless blessed him, "Good luck Rajo Mabo Cameron."

"Thanks Mum." The men and boy loaded their canoe with Hawko's as she was left to sigh out her burgeoning anxiety.

Billy nudged her, "Let's go, this is going to be a major spectator event." Sue tagged along, following them around thirty or so Special Forces soldiers who didn't care to sweat it out. They lined the river's edge at the start of the race to see off the competitors who were going to follow the exact route of the official Fifth of May race.

The starting point of the race is in a wide, shallow waterhole that narrows to single file width. Within 100 metres, it would dramatically change to a section of fast moving rapids. Definitely not for amateurs, although many have tried in the past and no doubt many will try in the future. The next few hundred metres after the rapids is a winding tight flow that opens into the deepest waterhole in the race; this deep section is not to be sneezed at, it is three kilometres long.

The spectators, having seen off the last of the competitors, moved on to another vantage point. They crammed and waited at good spill areas where they expected to be entertained with excellent tactics and maneuvers of paddlers as they get through tight bends, rapids and overhanging pandanus branches.

Belle anxiously waited for Bryce and Rajo at Checkpoint One, the first of four sections along the route. She saw Bernie past the first checkpoint. Then there was Banjo among a cluster of very fit men. They were the front-runners, so to speak.

A few minutes later Barry and Ben successfully negotiated the deepest section of the river. They were cheered heartily. The atmosphere, as the race and the day progressed, has turned circus-like. With many spectators shouting out their opinion on how it's done. "Bloody use your paddle, ya mug!"

She didn't care for her husband and her son to get to the finish line first. She just wanted them to finish safely, end of. She was petrified of the rapids and the deep water. She could think of nothing but for the race to be over. But Billy on the other hand was jumping up and down at the sight of Raf who was just ahead of Bryce and Rajo. Belle and Sue had to remind her to take it easy as she was also four months pregnant.

Then it was time for them, the great spectators, to move on again, this time to Checkpoint Two. Sue explained as they were climbing aboard the Ute that it was a good thing they won't be able to see the lads as they try to conquer Kamarga Falls. She heard the word Falls and nearly had a panic attack.

Her mother-in-law enlightened her, "It consists of two drops separated by a 100m pool of quieter water. They're the biggest set of rapids on the course, and can cause problems even for experienced canoists. But the boys have done it every year and they have survived it without a scratch," she said with an assuring smile.

The Billy had to interject. "There are scattering of large rocks around there so it has to be negotiated carefully." Sue elbowed Billy as Belle paled at the mention of large rocks. She gave her daughter the eye and hissed, "Too much information." The younger Cameron woman literally bit down on her tongue.

It truly was a blessing that Kamarga Falls was hard to get to for spectators. It wasn't a sight to behold for nervous on-lookers. Fact is, the Falls has a long left-hand sweep ending in a steep chute with a large rock at the bottom. Terrifying prospect!

Amateur competitors often elect to portage both top and bottom sections of Kamarga Falls. This is done on the left-hand side of the river, approximately 10 metres away, so they could carry their canoe along the sandy bank, and on not the rocks.

But these men would not chose to portage if it killed them, so down the Falls they went! Close to the drop, Bryce worried about Rajo but he decided not to shriek the challenge, more for Rajo's sake than his. He couched the boy on matters of life and sports; and if there was one thing he has always told him, it was '_Trust what you know_.' A variation of that was '_Trust your training_.' To shirt around the drop would be to discount the truth of his word. It would be real test for both of them.

He tried to keep his ears peeled to the boy despite the noise of cheering and the sounds of the water gushing to the pool below. The minute he says he's scared, he'd paddle the canoe to the side, close to the bank. But all he could hear behind him was whoops of excitement. The boy was indeed fearless, whether it was by nature or nurture, he couldn't exactly tell. _Perhaps it's a bit of both_.

About half hour paddle from Kamarga is another tricky spot on the river called Wipe Out. And it is precisely that. The rapid looks simple but always manages to claim numerous victims. It has upturned many a professional canoeist, this section. At this spot, the river narrows, therefore the velocity of the water increases. The bend has straightened out a bit over the years, but still pushes paddlers into the the far bank and still provides plenty of upsets.

This particular spot in the river is easily accessible by road, hence became Checkpoint Two. It offers a great vantage point for spectators wishing to watch the spills and applauding everyone who stays in their canoe. Here they witnessed the first of many spills. There were 'ohs' and 'ahs' as paddlers after paddlers got a dunking. The soldiers in the audience were betting on who would stay up and were mightily whooping it up as their preferences made it through upright.

The biggest cheer was reserved for Hawko, who they reckoned was probably the oldest survivor of the River Gregory. Not true though, the oldest paddler to compete in the Gregory River Canoe Race is a certain Dick Jenje, 75 when he completed the full race distance in 2005; and, 79 when he completed the short race in 2009_._ Hawko would likely clean-out that record by paddling the river when he's a 100.

The women shook their heads in amazement as money began to change hands, the betting going on full steam ahead. Then they look at each other in amusement at the tears and jeers that followed the money exchanges.

Nearly three quarters of the paddlers have been through but Bryce and Rajo were yet to be sighted. Belle fretted. She couldn't imagine how they would manage to resurface if they get owned by the river at this point. She waited with bated breath, then saw the twosome coming. Bryce was paddling like crazy to get his canoe on course. His biceps were flexing with great effort, his facial muscles tensed with concentration. He was fighting the increased velocity of the water. She prayed silently. Then her heart leaped with joy as they navigated successfully. For her, they were already winners.

Moving on to Checkpoint Three, about an hour paddle from Checkpoint Two, the spectators were treated to another interesting one kilometre section, followed by another long, deep waterhole, which thankfully was not as deep as the first one near the start.

So far, no one has bailed. They didn't expect any because these men would die before they admit defeat.

At Checkpoint Four, river came to a narrow, winding patch, probably the most interesting stretch of the river to paddle. "Not long now, another thirty minutes" said Billy.

"There is a long interesting rocky chute known as Galloping Jacks or Deliverance) then another long waterhole, then it's the finish line."

_Galloping Jacks? Deliverance?_ Belle contemplated on the nicknames and she didn't like it one little bit. She prayed for it to end soon. The sooner, the better.

The spectators waited at the finish line, first to arrive was someone called Jack Fellowes, one of the old and the bold of the Regiment. Not far behind was Bernie, by the thinnest of margin. The winning time, 2:35:15. Bernie's 2:37:45.

"Did he paddle 43-kilometres in under three hours?" asked Belle in disbelief. She felt exhausted just hearing it.

Of the 45 competitors, including Rajo, father and son came last but true to his word, Bryce won it for Belle. By default, since they were the only one on that category, they won the best tandem. Their time, 3:10:05.

Hawko won, too, He won the Master Class, also by default. "A win's a win," he said in his acceptance speech. His time, 2:59:15. He came second last yet he was also Number One in everyone's eyes.

The three winners' price was a toy boat. _C'est la vie._


	50. Silver Linings

**Silver Linings**

After the canoe race, they headed to the lone pub in town and nearly emptied the fridges, bar and store room. The owner happily told Sue Cameron it was lucky he stocked up for the May Day week-end, "or tomorrow's races would be as dry as the Prohibition".

At the bar, Jack Fellowes, a fellow Mariner who clocked the winning time proposed that he and Bernie should register to join the race tomorrow. Reading the promotional material tacked on the pub's window, he said, "The prize money is $5,000 and anyone who could topple the race record that's currently 2 hours :43 minutes and 23 seconds set in 2001 would receive an additional $2,000.

"Come on, Merlin. We've beaten that time already and we're not even breaking a sweat," he said egging Bernie on. "That'd be the easiest $7,000 ever. One of us can definitely win it."

It was a cool idea, which every one thought was do-able. Billy was all for it. "Race starts at 8 sharp, we can all be back at the homestead by 11am." It was, without a doubt, a cool idea except Sue got wind of it and vetoed it out of the water. She was having none of it. "It wouldn't be fair." And sternly told every one of her mob that it's not on. "Understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am." they chorused, even Hawko joined in.

When the VB beer tap dried up, it was time to head off which was perfect timing. Already waiting for them back at the homestead; sat on the bench in the veranda, their feet propped on the rails; were two beautiful creatures. The men spotted the ladies, their eyes bugged out and thought, _at last_. But it was not to be for the women had come to Cameron Country to meet the family. Bernie and Banjo admired their older brothers' taste in women.

Once inside the homestead, Sue was introduced to Rebecca and Matilde, and then the mob. "They didn't tell me you're coming," said Sue by way of apology. "If I knew you were coming, we'd have made better preparation."

"Don't worry, Mum. Rebecca's used to living rough," said Ben. Kissing the top of her head and locking his arms around her waist.

"And Matilde's used to the Casualty ward," joked Barry who was obviously totally besotted with the woman of his dreams.

Turning to Rebecca and Matilde, Bryce said, "And you'll meet the other mob later," pointing in the general direction of the lads camped on the ground.

Over cold drinks and biscuits, Sue appraised the women who have won her sons' heart. With her long, side-parted brunette hair, long limbs and pretty smile, Rebecca was a dead-ringer for the Duchess of Cambridge. She possessed such grace and gentility. So it would come as a surprise to Sue that Rebecca was a spy for ASIO; and that, despite her airs and graces, she could, in fact, out-swear Billy!

Blonde-haired, blue-eyed Matilde, a German doctor has doll-like facial features; deep-set blue eyes, pert nose, roundish face, punctuated with a tiny cleft on the chin. The fact she was a warrior in the operating theatre comes as a shock to Sue. Barry and Matilde met at the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center (LRMC), Germany, where they work to save wounded Coalition soldiers. Prior to LRMC, Barry was an Army Medic with the Australian Defense Force in Afghanistan.

LRMC is an overseas military hospital operated by the United States Army and the Department of Defense. The largest of its kind outside continental United States. It serves as the nearest treatment center for wounded soldiers coming from Iraq and Afghanistan, in addition, it serves military personnel stationed in Germany and their family members.

This was the first time the boys brought their girlfriend home so Sue and the rest of the clan had an inkling this was serious business. The family gathered around the new arrivals until Bryce remarked that they probably need to rest. "I'm sure it's been a long trip for you both."

"You said it," replied Rebecca. "I'd like to rest." Ben gallantly stood to show her to way to his room

"Me, too," she Matilde. "I'm so happy to finally meet you all."

Rajo turned to Bryce and asked if his uncles Ben and Barry were getting married, too. "We'll have to wait to find out," he said.

Every one went off to their own little place but Banjo, he tilted his head and made a face to Belle, his confidante-in-law. Sensing he has something to say, Belle walked over to him. "What's up?"

"I came close to bringing someone home," he said. "I broke it off with her, it wasn't working out."

"I'm sorry. Was she the girl you couldn't stay in Camp for?"

Banjo smiled at the recollection of Bryce asking him if she was worth it. He could have been abducted then tortured. "Yeah," he said.

"What happened?"

"She was pressuring me to leave the Army. She didn't like the hours and the risks I take flying the Black Hawk with Special Forces. It's my life Belle. But she reckon I should re-train and learn to fly a plane instead, then move to join a commercial airline. She has all these plans that didn't include the Army."

Belle placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "You poor thing," she said.

"The last straw was when she made me tag along to this photo shoot, she's a fashion stylist for a man's wear label. I was bored out of my mind. I was leaning against the wall, amusing myself with all these people running around like headless chooks when the photographer took my photo. He asked Caroline to ask me to model and I said, 'Hell no.' Man, they were creepy persistent, I told them," he did the quote sign with his fingers, "I'm a property of the Australian government, I couldn't just appear on billboards. It started a row between us."

"You know what, she's not the girl for you. When right girl comes into your life, she'd be so awesome and she'll probably, sort of, just bump into you."

"I didn't know you're a wanna-be fortune-teller," he said with a grin. "Don't get me wrong, it's just that I feel I can talk to you about these things. If I tell my mates about this, geez, they'll crucify me and slag me to death." They both had a laugh.

The afternoon went by quickly, almost like a blur. But at 18:00 hours, Cameron Country came to life. Heavenly light has slowly started to fade but mercy of all mercies! A bus load of woman arrived! A bus load! It was the doing of Emily, the Soldier's Whisperer. The Camerons has her to thank for this major miracle.

For Sue's birthday and their wedding, Bryce gave the catering business to Emily who promptly organised not just the food and drinks but also the crew. An all-female cooking and service crew. Fifteen twenty-something single ladies who were well and truly forewarned what sort of men to expect and advised not to fall for their charm. "Don't be a number in the regimental bedpost," she told them.

The lads who were sleeping off their fatigue after a physically taxing morning and a boozy lunch woke up in a jiffy. Sighting the ladies was prompt enough to be very keen to help out. Emily knew most of the Aussie contingent but not the four American Deltas, three UKSF, a couple of Gurkhas, one Russian Spetnaz, a Canadian JTF-2 and Bryce's Morroccan mate. It was a motley crew if she ever met one.

In no time, the lads were placing bets again on who would be the first to get a phone number from the girls, "Any girls."

"That would be me," said Choir Boy. The men laughed at him. At 24, he could still pass for 18. The young-looking bloke could easily be mistaken for a yuppy but he has already proven himself in battle. An Iraq campaign veteran, he was highly respected by his mates, but his chances of scoring a phone number? They didn't rate very highly.

Nevertheless, he employed his strategy. He was right there with the girls helping with chopping vegetables and slicing meat, showing off his skills with the knife. He even borrowed Emily's spare chef uniform to look the part. Ever friendly, and non-threatening, he was an instant hit with the girls who were falling all over him for his attention.

The Soldier Whisperer, using her magic, mustered the lads, instructing them to erect the mess tents which she "borrowed" from the camp. As rowdy and boisterous the boys were, they were at least a very disciplined lot. So two tents went up in no time. As the sky continued to darken, she ask them to light up the perimeter of a football-size pitch with torches. That got sorted in a few minutes.

Bryce searched for Hawko, needing to make sure he wasn't feeling left out. He was worried when he couldn't find him and was about to organise a search when he spotted him and Emily sitting in the cab of his Ute. Just the two of them. He breathe out a sigh of relief knowing full well that the Soldier Whisperer had got him to talk.

Not only had she managed that, she managed to help Hawko feel alive somewhat. It was as if his soul resurrected. He opened his wallet to show Emily several notes Grace left for him, written in her lovely script. He found them in her cupboard, table drawers, pressed between pages of photo albums, one was even inside a cereal box. She knew he'd clean up her place. She knew he'd be searching for answers. The notes rend her heart.

One of them said, 'Dad, I always loved you. My earliest recollection of love was when, as a little girl, you let me stand on your boot, hug your leg and you used to walk for both of us.'

Another note said, 'You didn't fail me. Ever.'

'I wish I never had to grow up so I could still cuddle with you in bed. I felt safest by your side.'

'So very proud of you Dad.'

At 20:00 hours, dinner was served. The men chatted up the service crew who were very cute in their smart white top, tucked into black trousers, sensible black flat-soled shoes and black apron. But sadly for them, there was hardly a chance to chat them up long, for the girls had to move around to serve as many people as possible.

The boys were very complimentary of the food, especially since the curry was hot enough to satisfy their singed palate, but they were very critical of the drinks. "Juice? Bloody juice?" whined one of the Brits to Bryce. "If I knew I had to be celibate and dry at the same time, I'd have taken a f'ing posting." The Wolf laughed and said, "Take it up with Emily. She's the Boss."

At midnight, Sue's birthday party kicked off big-time. The food and the drinks were merely the appetiser. The main course was the Cameron siblings and Raf in concert. Raf on the keyboard, Billy and Barry on bass guitars, Bryce on the harmonica, Bernie on the drums, Ben on saxophone and Banjo was lead singer. They played Simon and Garfunkel's greatest hits starting with McArthur Park.

Only their final two songs were composed by Australian songwriters. One of which has been sung and loved by probably every warrior whose ever learned it. It was poetry to their ears, it's called '_You're the Voice_.' The lyrics resonated with them as they all sang-along with conviction.

_We have __the chance__ to turn the pages over  
We can write what we want to write  
We gotta make ends meet, before we get much older_

We're all someone's daughter  
We're all someone's son  
How long can we look at each other  
Down the barrel of a gun?

You're the voice, try and understand it  
Make the noise and make it clear, oh, woah  
We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah

This time, we know we all can stand together  
With the power to be powerful  
Believing we can make it better

Ooh, we're all someone's daughter

_We're all someone's son, oh  
Give a look at each other  
Down the barrel of a gun_

You're the voice, try and understand it  
Make the noise and make it clear, oh, woah  
We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah

_Ooh, we're all someone's daughter  
We're all someone's son  
How long can we look at each other  
Down the barrel of a gun?_

You're the voice, try and understand it  
Make the noise and make it clear, oh, woah  
We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah

_You're the voice, try and understand it  
Make the noise and make it clear, oh, woah  
We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah_

You're the voice, try and understand it  
Make the noise and make it clear, oh, woah  
We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah

You're the voice, try and understand it  
Make the

_noise__ and make it clear, oh, woah  
We're not gonna sit in silence  
We're not gonna live with fear, oh, woah_

The finale was Peter Allen's 'I Still Call Australia Home,' with a slight variation in the lyrics. The opening stanza was changed to reflect their common experience.

_I've been to cities that never close down_

_From Iraq to Fiji to Afghanistan_

_But no matter how wide and how far I roam_

_I still call Australia home._

It was nearly 02:00 on the Fifth of May when they close with a song just for Sue, _Happy Birthday to you._

Everyone retired happy and tired. But Choir Boy was the happiest of them all, he got five phone numbers and the cheeky bugger won close to $1,000, "easiest money I've ever earned."

Bryce searched for Hawko just to make sure he was alright. He and Emily were still talking. He felt sure he was gonna be ok. He went to bed, next to the warmth of Belle's body and saw silver linings in the darkness.


	51. Dr Seuss at My Wedding

_Author's Note: I took the quotes from Dr Seuss' 'Oh, the Places You'll Go' from the public domain. It is not mine and I claim no credit for it. I selected it because it fitted the story and was used for entertainment purposes only. Definitely not for profit. where it was in italics, I took the liberty to change the word, e.g. from him to her and from guy to gal.  
_

**Dr Seuss at My Wedding**

The first stirring of life came about at 07:00 hours, on the fifth of May. Emily and the girls slept in one of the tents, and with as little as five hours sleep started to prepare for breakfast and the wedding luncheon. Sue and her sisters came down to help, as did Billy and Raf.

All the lads had to be someplace else by last light so this wedding has to be underway by 10:00 am sharpish, with luncheon to follow, ready or not. So it happened with military precision. Round bales of hay were rolled away, back to the shed where they used to be. The men queued to shower with a garden hose, at least they thought to erect a shower cubicle made of corrugated iron to shield them from view. It didn't however occur to them to leave the locker room mentality behind in the barracks for they came out behind their make-shift cover with nothing but a towel round their waist.

The girls had a giggle surreptitiously observing the dressing up ritual. Turn back. Put on the underpants, therefore decent enough. Rip towel off, dry self with it. Put on pants, shirt, socks and shoes. Fold dirty clothes into a grab bag, stuff it in holdall. Roll sleeping bag. Carry holdall and sleeping bag to jeep and done! Seventy two men done and ready in less than ninety minutes.

Now off to breakfast buffet. A table was laden with all sort of cereal and all types of bread imaginable, from buckwheat bread to sour dough. Spread and marmalade from butter to raspberry jam. Milk from full cream to soy. Bacon sizzled in several bar-b-qs; tomatoes grilled on the side. Emily announced that if anyone wanted eggs, they have to help themselves. A huge urn brewed coffee, it was heaven enough for some.

Belle woke up with a smile on her face. Who could have imagined it would come to this? She yawned contentedly, stretched and listened for sounds of life. She heard Rajo laughing and screaming at the top of his lungs as he horsed around the living room with his uncles. She heard feminine voices and remembered their two unexpected guests.

"Good morning pixie." She lifted her head over the fold of the hammock. Her jaw dropped at the sight of him, dressed in his SAS regimental uniform. It hanged loose on him. "You lost a lot of weight," she said smiling. "But you still look amazing."

Her husband was just drop-dead gorgeous. Tall, dark and handsome. The scar on his left cheek not diminishing that dashing good looks, rather it gave him an action hero aura about him. "I can't wed myself," he said, "so up you go." He lifted her off their love hammock. "Shall I help you get ready?" he asked with a twinkle in his eyes.

"No," she said giddily, "I can manage this. Go, have breakfast."

There wasn't time to prepare for her wedding, in as much as she didn't know if it was going to happen at all, at least not til a week ago. She chose to wear the same slinky, white birthday gown she purchased in Cairns, thankful that her four month old preggy belly wasn't showing yet. She showered for a good while, enjoying the caress of warm water and the perfumed scent of her lavender bath gel.

She dried herself and rubbed extra virgin olive oil on herself, her cheap but effective beauty ritual. It kept but skin supple and hydrated. She had just slipped the soft, silky gown over her head and down her body when she heard her computer pinged. She hit a key and Winnie's beaming face greeted her. "Hi Belle, big day, huh."

"Yeah, big day. How are you? Spike home yet?"

"No, still at work. I'm so glad I caught you. I was worried that I left it too late."

"Two hours to go... and look at me, still getting dressed."

"You'd look pretty in a potato sack. I love your dress. Very sexy."

"Thank you. I wish you're here. I wish you and Spike could be with us."

"Me, too." Belle heard knocking. "Someone's at the door."

"Go. I just want to wish you all the best and we're always thinking of you."

"Thanks... I'll catch you later. Take care." the Skype connection dropped out and Belle rushed to the door. Standing at the threshold were Rebecca and Matilde, both already ready and bearing gifts. "You girls are stunning," she said.

Rebecca was wearing a conservative floral, ankle-length summer maxi. The dress hugging her willowy figure. Her long hair was gathered in a pony tail. She wore a pair of beige low-heeled pump to complement the dress.

Matilde, on the other hand, wore a little red dress that defined everything. It outlined her perfect vital statistics of 34'-24'-34'. Her blonde hair piled high on her head. With her LRD, she wore a laced up red ballet shoes.

Belle smiled. She could just imagine how proud Ben and Barry must feel being the envy of the lads.

"Come in," she said. Rebecca walked in, followed closely by Matilde.

Becca was holding a veil from Sue's own wedding ensemble, it was to be her 'something borrowed.' In her other hand, she held up a little box to Belle. "What's this?" she asked excitedly. She opened it and gasped. Inside was gold bracelet with the inscription, _Belle and Bryce, happiness forever_.

"It's from us," said the beautiful spy. "Let me put it on you."

Matilde handed her a bouquet of Australian flowers, arranged beautifully, the centre piece being a stem of blue Western Australian orchid. It survived its long travel being native to the land.

"Wow, this is truly awesome." she shared that there hadn't been time to prepare that she was simply going to have to carry a bouquet of frangipani flowers from the tree outside the window. They had a giggle about it. She also gave her an envelope, "It's from Barry and myself." Belle opened it, it was a gift certificate to any Club Med anywhere in the world. Belle was speechless.

Remembering something else, Matilde said, "And here's the garter." More laughter followed.

"You must be hungry," commented Rebecca.

"I am actually but on second thought, I might be better off not having anything in me. I'm very nervous."

The women helped her with her make-up, not that she required much. 09:30 hours, the three of them emerged from the room. Bryce was stunned at the sight of her. "You're beautiful," he said. He adored her pixie-ness.

But the Cameron brothers took their breath away, they were all wearing their dress uniforms, not the usual battle fatigue. She was gobsmocked at the sight of them.

Ben, a Major in the Australian Army, wore his stripes. He had to be a ranking commissioned officer to be appointed Military Attaché to Washington D.C., unfortunately, even in full military regalia, his brothers wouldn't salute him.

Barry, also a member of the Army and a Captain in the Royal Australian Medical Corp, looked very smart. Lieutenant Commander Bernie Cameron looked splendid in his white Naval uniform; Captain Banjo Cameron was in his Army aviator uniform.

Rajo was dressed in a suit. He looked so adorable.

"Is everyone ready?" It was Pong, the town mayor, he would be officiating at the wedding. And he was grinning from ear to ear. She has a bad feeling about it. And as it turned out, she had every reason to be worried but she took it all in her stride and went with the flow.

At precisely, 09:45, Bernie had the camera ready and snapped pictures for posterity sake.

Bryce took his place, along with Best Man Barry at the front of the gathered crowd. He could tell from the reaction of the lads that they were going to stick it to him. He couldn't help but dread what was coming, he kinda regretted inviting this lot of philistines to his wedding.

A small nod from Pong and Raf hit the first key on his keyboard. It wasn't the classic Mendelssohn's wedding march but rather a sweet, soft interpretation of Elvis Costello's She. As he was signing, everyone thought how appropriate the song was for all the right reasons. The song choice was inspired. The sky was blue and all was perfect til the end of the song.

Leading the processional march was Billy, followed by Rebecca and Matilde who were roped-in at the last minute to act as brides' maid. Everything was perfect till the close of the song when someone in the crowd yelled, "Billy, are you the flower girl or the Maid of Honour?"

The tiny Cameron turned to the source of the voice, who was Jeff Hopoate, and threw the bouquet at him. He caught it and said, "She's supposed to throw it after, not you" and tossed it back. Billy caught it and everyone erupted in a clap. Bryce looked heavenward and thought he might commit homicide anytime now. But one look at Belle and he decided going inside the clanger wouldn't be a good idea.

Rajo walked Belle down the aisle. It was such a sweet, poignant moment when Rajo shook Bryce's hand in front of witnesses. The father ruffled the son's hair, the boy beamed and said, "You did good." He went to sit next to Sue excited as a jumping jack.

Pong, town mayor and wedding celebrant invited Squat, a life-long friend of Bryce, to greet and welcome everyone which he did with great aplomb. So far, so good. Then came the reading. Ben's turn. He walked up to the front and read the gospel according to Dr Seuss.

He looked at Bryce, smiled and said, " Congratulations! Today is your day. You're off to Great Places! You're off and away! You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the guy who'll decide where to go. You'll look up and down streets. Look 'em over with care. About some you will say, 'I don't choose to go there'. With your head full of brains and your shoes full of feet, you're too smart to go down any not-so-good street. And you may not find any you'll want to go down. In that case, of course, you'll head straight out of town."

He turned to Belle, smiled. Nodded a little and went on to say with dramatic flair, "Oh! The places you'll go! You'll be on your way up! You'll be seeing great sights! You'll join the high fliers who soar to high won't lag behind, because you'll have the speed. You'll pass the whole gang and you'll soon take the lead. Wherever you fly, you'll be the best of the best. Wherever you go, you will top all the rest. Except when you don't because, sometimes, you won't. I'm sorry to say so but, sadly, it's true and hang-ups can happen to you. You can get all hung up in a prickle-ly perch. And your gang will fly on. You'll be left in a Lurch. You'll come down from the Lurch with an unpleasant bump. And the chances are, then, that you'll be in a Slump. And when you're in a Slump, you're not in for much fun. Un-slumping yourself is not easily done.

"You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're dark. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win? And IF you go in, should you turn left or right...or right-and-three-quarters? Or, maybe, not quite? Or go around back and sneak in from behind? Simple it's not, I'm afraid you will find, for a mind-maker-upper to make up _her_ mind.

"You can get so confused that you'll start in to race down long wiggled roads at a break-necking pace and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space, headed, I fear, toward a most useless place. The Waiting Place...

He paused and looked deep into Belle's eyes. Conveying a sense of hope from the words of Dr Seuss', he continued, "...for people just waiting. Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or a No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.  
Everyone is just waiting.

"No! That's not for you! Somehow you'll escape all that waiting and staying. You'll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing. With banner flip-flapping, once more you'll ride high! Ready for anything under the sky. Ready because you're that kind of a _gal_!

Finally, Ben looked at both of them and read with conviction, "Oh, the places you'll go! There is fun to be done!"

Everyone said, "Aye."

Belle and Bryce looked at each other and couldn't believe how appropriate the reading had been.

Moving on, Pong asked the ring bearer to come forward. Banjo stood up, breaking the world record for being the oldest and tallest ring bearer ever. He even took a deep bow in front of the crowd. The wedding celebrant said that the couple should now exchange vows. Belle went first. "I love you," she said. And the motley audience said, "Awww..." with a few daubing their eyes. She covered her mouth, couldn't help but laugh with a nervous giggle. Bryce hugged her to himself and whispered, "Sorry I invited these philistines."

She looked up, smiled and said, "It's ok."

She paused. Breathe out and said, "Your people will be my people. Your land will be my land. Your dreams will be my dreams."

It's his turn. He looked at the mob and knew what they were thinking. They're going to stick it to him but he wouldn't let them. He has a vow that would end all vows and he wouldn't give them the pleasure of ribbing him at his own wedding. As far as he was concerned, they can hold on to their "Awws."

He looked at Belle and quite simply and profoundly said, "I'm yours."

Everyone waited. Nothing more. Two seconds elapsed, and Pong said, "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Two words?"

"Two words."

She ran the words in her head, '_I'm yours_.' For her it was enough. She knew the significance of what those two words meant. The Wolf has declared that he was hers for life. 'Im yours' completely, without reservation, for wolves mated for life.

They exchanged rings, her first proper one. An entwined eternity band, one silver and one gold band. Bryce designed it himself, "The silver one is your engagement ring you never had; the gold, the wedding ring."

"I did have an engagement ring," she said. On her finger was the twine ring that looked more like a reminder string than a ring. "I think it's time for that to go... it's getting threadbare," he said grinning.

Pong announced that he would skipped the other mumbo jumbo and told the couple, "You may now kiss each other." Now the boys had a chance to belt out their unrestrained "Awws..."

The couple marched down the aisle, and their guests burst into song, singing 'Summer Nights'.

At the lunch, a young woman caught Bernie's attention, he approached casually, "Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar."

The lady with shoulder-length hair, in a chef uniform glanced up, "We went to the same high school."

"Oh," he said. "So how come I don't know your name?"

"You never spoke to me."

"Why not?"

She giggled, "Let's see... maybe because you were always surrounded by a bunch of pretty girls."

"You weren't one of them?"

"No pretty enough," she said. "I had buck teeth. And besides, we were in the same high school but we were not in the same year."

"Ah. Ok, so you like cooking?"

"I do."

"Me, too."

"Really?" she said laughing. "Well, make yourself useful then and garnish these," handing him a tray of spring rolls.

"So what's your name?"

"Bonita."

"That means pretty, right?"

"U hum," she said.

"Suits you."

She shook her head and saw red lights flashing in her head. The Officer and Gentleman was too handsome to be into her. She pulled back and excused herself leaving Bernie to wonder why it was that every woman he was ever interested in always seemed to leave in a hurry. Banjo came over and said, "You and me both." They commiserated.

A hearty lunch was soon served. Over a plate, Hawko and Bryce caught up and made arrangement to speak to Belle "tomorrow". Bryce said that in a couple of hour or so, the guests would be trickling out, until then the the time wouldn't right. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm good," the Big Man said. "The lads have been a welcome distraction."

"You had a good chat with Emily?"

"Yeah, she's a good shoulder to cry on." Bryce simply nodded. The woman was certainly a bringer of hope. "Ben and Barry are moving out tonight, heading into town. You're welcome to join us. Sleeping in the barn must be a bitch."

Hawko shrugged and said, "It's a bitch I'm familiar with."

They momentarily suspended their conversation when Belle came over and gave Hawko a hug around the waist, "Sorry I haven't had time to talk to you." He kissed the top of her head. She, in that instance, reminded him of Grace.

"Don't worry about it... I'm just glad you're happy."

Bryce looked down at his feet, aching with his Boss.

Hawko blinked back the tears and excused himself, "Catch you tomorrow."

They watched his back, Belle looked at Bryce inquiringly, "Is he ok?"

"He'll be right," he said. If only he half-believed it himself.

A couple of hours later, the mob were saying their good byes.


	52. The Truth Shall Set You Free

_ Tissue alert!_

**The Truth Shall Set You Free**

It was the strangest experience she'd had by far. How they had close to a hundred people at Cameron Country less than six hours ago then it was as if they vanished into thin air. The place was spotless. No trace was left of the encampment except tire tracks. And of the wedding lunch celebration, there was nothing, not a paper plate. She surveyed the place from the veranda and had to ask herself if there was, indeed, a birthday party the night before and a wedding this morning. But more crazily than that was the sudden onset of quiet. She could hear the frogs again.

Bryce came out to join her, wrapped an arm across her front. She laid her head on his chest, tilted her head back to look at his profile. She really missed him. He was gone for so long and in the last three days she's had to share him with everybody. Now, she has him all to herself. Even Rajo was out of their hair. Sue had insisted on taking her grandson with her to Malanda. "I'll bring him to school. Just rest and enjoy your time together." She hugged her mum-in-law, grateful for the break.

Raf andBilly, Ben and Rebecca, Barry and Matilde went to Cairns for a couples' break. Banjo had a flight booked for Holsworthy Barracks but poor Bernie had to parked his ass at Townsville Camp. He got a call from his superior tasking him to accompany a marine biologist who, he was told, wanted to know what the Navy did for the ocean environment. They sniggered as they overheard his part of the conversation, "Boss? Why me?"

"Can't you find someone else to baby-sit the whale-hugger."

"I have things to do in Sydney."

"No Sir."

"Yes Sir."

"On it Sir."

He closed down the phone and uttered, "Fuck." It didn't improve his mood when Banjo mimicked him. "No Sir. Yes Sir. On it Sir." He shook his head, one can't hope to get sympathy from this mob.

Belle turned to her husband, hugged him. _It feels so good just to feel him_. "Let's go to bed," he said. "I'm buggered." But as he said that his eyes were not on her but were directed at the barn. Only one remained at Cameron Country, Hawko. "Are you worried about him?" she asked.

He looked down on her. "No, he'll be right. I'll speak to him first thing tomorrow."

Arm-in-arm, they went to bed. Bryce laid awake for hours thinking how to soften the blow on Belle. _She'd be devastated_. He caressed her arm. Curled up against him, she fell asleep almost instantly. She looked so innocent. _Oh pixie, _he sighed but eventually, he too succumbed to his exhaustion.

Hawko went for a walk. Walking has always helped clear his head, eased his anxiety, calmed him down. He made a decision. Once he had done that, he retraced his step to the barn and was able to sleep right through till four in the morning.

Waking before the cock crows has been a life-long habit. He went out to check what kind of day it would be today and smiled thinly as he heard Bryce's approach. He came with a brew.

They settled inside the barn to have a yarn. Bryce sat on hay, his legs stretched out, feet crossed over. Hawko sat across drinking black coffee. They talked about out this and that; and people they knew who came to the wedding. Sharing war stories and generally skirting around the subject they knew had to be discussed sooner or later.

Bryce didn't know how to bring it up. He's worried about Belle. It was fucking selfish at a time like this to be thinking of his wife. But wasn't just about Belle. It's also the fact she was carrying a child in her. But Hawko did! He tapped the Wolf's boot. "Soldier," he said. "It's need-to-know. And she doesn't need to know."

He looked dead straight at Hawko, former Boss at the SAS. The one who taught him everything he knew about soldiering. Colonel Charles Hawke. He swallowed. A sense of relief washed over him. _Unbelievable man._ Even heroes had heroes. Hawko had been his since the first he heard of the man's legend. Now he was more than a hero in his eyes. He's a demi god.

Hawko smiled. "There's enough pain in the world to go around. There's no need to share that one. It makes no difference."

Was it any wonder he followed him into battle? Here was man who had the capacity to withstand the deepest cut, the angriest blow, the hardest fall. A man who, when he dropped hard on his knees, would get up again and again. He who, when he led his Squadron, took on barrages of undeserved criticism when operations failed. "The bucket stops with me." And who was quick to point out their triumph and stood aside to avoid even reflected glory.

"Thank you," was all Bryce could say. Hawko dismissed it with a wave of a hand. "Any chance of another brew." They walked to the homestead.

"She's still sleeping."

"There's no hurry," Hawko replied. "I don't have a schedule."

They settled in the kitchen and made themselves breakfast, and spoke in whisper. With the exception of occasional laughter they were mindful to keep it down. But Belle wasn''t still sleeping. She has been up for hours dreading how to share what she had earlier discovered. She wished she followed her husband's advice and kept a lid on her curiosity. She promised herself next time she would, if she could.

After breakfast, the men left to check the property, Belle heard them leave. _ Thank God_. But sooner or later, she had to tell them what she knows. She got up and mustered her courage. First, she needed something stronger than tea. For the first time since she fell pregnant she had proper coffee. "Sorry baby," she said. "You just have to cope with a little stress." She smiled. _It's a Cameron baby, he or she could cope with a little stress._

Bernie had been up since the crack of dawn. By 07:00 hours he was ready to handle the whale-hugger. He was instructed to be at the mess hall by 08:00 hours. On approach, he saw Bonita with one of the Navy's public affairs officer. _This is interesting._

The public affairs media spinner turned and said, "Here he is, right on time." Bonita was open-mouthed with surprise. Bernard Mabo Cameron was grinning from ear to ear. The PA guy made the introduction. "Dr Rudd, this is Lieutenant Commander Cameron." They shook hands and nodded politely to each other. "Well, I better leave you to it then," said the guy who couldn't wait to get back to his office.

"If you wanted to see me again, you could have just asked me yesterday," joked the Navy Officer. She was aghast and embarrassed at the same time. "Sorry, I didn't know they were going to ask you."

Merlin winked. "So, I thought you were a chef."

"Cooking is a hobby. I was on leave from my job, today's my first day back. And Emily's my godmother so when she needed help I couldn't refuse."

"Right," he said and went on a charm offensive, "What is it you want us to do?"

She rolled her eyes and said, "We need to find a quiet place for a Q and A. Then, at some point, we have to do a dive so you can demonstrate what you guys do."

"Ok," he replied, "I can arrange that. But first we have to have breakfast." He glanced around the mess hall. "Not here though, let's go."

In the car, Bernie asked, "Was I ever mean to you in high school?"

She raised her eye brow, "No, what made you asked?"

"You've been kinda aloof."

She laughed. "No, actually you saved me from bullies once." He turned to gaze at her and recognition flashed in his mind. "You're bugs bunny," he said, pointing a finger at her excitedly.

She rolled her eyes, "I told you I had buck teeth. Thank God for braces." Then she added, "And... you were Duck. I remember your sister climbing the pool fence and shouting at the top of her lungs, 'DUCK, I'm off.'" They had a chuckle at the recollection. "Does she still call you Duck?"

"The family calls me that."

"Why?"

"Apparently I paddle in the water and waddle on land."

"You don't waddle on land," she said. He locked into her smiling face. The longer he looked at her, the more beautiful she became. She self-consciously looked out the window and said, "I think we gotta to move on, I need to complete this project."

Over breakfast, she told him she joined the high school swim team in Year 9 when he was in Year 12 and was Team Captain. That he comforted her when she burst into tears having been relentlessly teased about her buck teeth. He made sure she never got teased again. She also told him that the whole school had a crush on him.

"Now that's a lie," he said. "Banjo is the ladies' man."

"Same difference," she said.

Project Sonar got underway in ways more interesting than she thought possible. The Q and A wasn't straight-forward because every now and then their conversation would digress. She had difficulty getting him back on topic, or rather keeping him on topic. The mariner only wanted to talk about her and she only wanted to talk about the ocean, at least that's what she kept telling herself.

She reminded him they have to dive off Magnetic Island at some point. He suggested they do it in the afternoon. "Unfortunately" he said he was Sydney-based and would likely be called back to the Potts Point Navy yard in a matter of days. She didn't tell him she was a research scientist at the University of Sydney, less than 10 minutes from the Navy yard. But he'll find out.

Bryce and Hawko returned to the homestead just after 10:00 hours, Belle was ready to face the music. They gathered around the table. Bracing herself, she started with, "She must be a beautiful mind. She has quite a sophisticated encryption code in her computer. She doesn't keep much in it but she has been following these three men." Belle brought up photos of the guys on screen.

"Can I have a print out?"

"I've already printed them out for you." She passed them on to Hawko.

"She has been keeping an eye on them until 30 April, the last time she checked online. That's the day these guys were let off on parole. Maybe she lost interested?" she said as she hazard a guess. Bryce and Hawko knew better. That was the day she...

Bryce got up to use the toilet. Hawko smiled at Belle and gently pressed her on.

"She didn't keep much in her computer, it's basically clean so I changed tack. I hacked into the email accounts of these men instead," at this point Belle's voice started to quiver. "They have several facebook accounts. Many personal details they left there were revelatory. They have a massive archive."

She passed on more photos to Hawko. "These pictures were emailed to her by this man here." They was photos of him with sniper cross-hairs drawn over them. He remembered when these were taken and where. They were taken outside her flat on the Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday of the week after her daughter missed their fortnightly date.

He went to her flat to check on her. Knocked on the door. Shouted her name. Looked for her car. Three consecutive days he returned. By the third day, he was about to break her door down when he got a text from her cellphone saying she was sorry she forgot to tell him she was going to be interstate to attend a friend's party. He recalled leaving her place with such a relief. They must have sent it to him from her phone.

Belle continued, "The email said, 'We know where Daddy lives'"

Grace couldn't have known the close ups were taken right outside her own place. No one knew where he lived but his family and his men. But somehow it stopped her telling him what was wrong. His daughter didn't want to take any risks and tried on her own to protect him. _From what or who?_ He didn't have a clue. Yet.

"The only person who can shed more light about what happened is Det David Hayley at King's Cross. His contact details are in here." As she handed him a sealed envelope, her hand shook. Bryce rejoined them at this point. Hawke held her hands and said, "I am truly grateful." Then like a dam battling to control the overflow, she burst into tears. She was very distressed.

Hawko clasped Bryce's shoulder and said, "Look after her."

She couldn't stop crying. Her husband held her to him until he was soaked to the skin. She'd stopped. Then she'd hiccup and then start all over again. He has no idea what brought it on but whatever it was it had to be very bad.

At the barn, Hawko opened the sealed envelop and prayed for strength and courage. He was not a praying man by any definition. He was always self-reliant. Self-controlled. Self-assured. But now he needed Someone, a Supreme Being to help him face what might be a horrible truth.

It was an iphone with instructions on how to play the recording. It opened with the three men clowning in front of the camera inside her unit, talking obscenities. "The bitch should have minded her own business. Do-gooding slut had it coming."

The camera panned to Grace as she was tied spread-eagle on her own bed, duct taped. He could see how terrified she was. She was screaming into the tape. He imagined her screaming for him, "Daddy, help me!" He was tortured by the very thought.

He fast forward a bit. The next frame showed them inking the top of her left breast. He fast forward again, this time it was her right breast. Over three days, they worked on the tattoos. Ugly black monstrosities. Grotesquely misspelt but the meanings were clear. 'Slat' and 'hore.'

He hurled the iphone in rage, sank to his knees in anguish. Crying as only a father could cry. Screaming into the ground, "Why?' Why?"

"I could have saved her. I should have broken the door down."

"Why? Why didn't you tell me?" There was no word to define the pain. Nothing could assuage it. Nothing.

It took ages for Belle to calm down, but even then, tears couldn't stop. The more she tried, the worse it got. Bryce placed her in the hammock and played the harmonica. The soothing melody of 'She' filled the air and somehow it settled her. Once she calmed down, Bryce went to see Hawko. He, too, was slumped on the ground sobbing. Writhing in pain. Bryce respectfully gave him space. He stood sentinel at the mouth of the barn, watching silently as Hawko rocked and cried his heart out.

Somehow, when he was all cried out, Hawko found the strength to get up and dust himself off. "Soldier," he said, "Take me to Townsville."

They walked to the homestead. Bryce asked Belle if she was going to be alright for a few hours alone. She said, "Yes, do what you have to do."

The men took to the air in the Bell helicopter. Hawke looked down to the earth and wondered if life was still worth living. For now, the answer was _Yes_.

_I have to know. Only the truth can set me free._


	53. Amazing Grace

_Tissue alert!_

**Amazing Grace**

Bryce landed the helo on the closest available open space near Townsville Airport. He shut the engine down and couldn't resist asking,"What's up, mate?" His former training officer patted his shoulder, "Need to know, mate." But before jumping off the bird, he turned back to Bryce and said, "I'll see you soon. Count on it."

The Wolf breathe out a sigh of relief. The old geezer would be alright after all. He watched him walk away with purpose, undefeated. Motivated. He has something up his sleeve but as a friend he still couldn't help but worry somehow. Grief has a way of sucking people in, it's a black hole that keeps getting larger until it devours everyone it its vortex. He got as many bodies to revolve around Hawko to counter the gravitational pull of the black hole. He called mates he knew were in Sydney, asking to keep an eye on the old man. He wouldn't break confidence and they didn't ask what was wrong. He just said, "Drop in on him." Or, "Call him every now and then."

Hawko didn't break his stride. He bought a ticket for Sydney, then logged online to book a room at a bed and breakfast closest to King's Cross police station. And like any active SAS serving around the world, he lived 'for the moment.' He bought a couple of shirts, a pair a pants, some socks and a dozen underwear. He emptied his holdall of dirty old clothes, wrapped them in plastic bag and dumped them in the bin. There was no point carrying laundry.

He bought a good amount of food to fill him, parked his ass on a seat against the wall, ate and read a book. A glance at his watch told him he has three hours to kill, in the meantime, he'd simply have to occupy himself as best he could. He set the alarm of his el-cheapo Baby-G to boarding time so he didn't have to tune in for the announcements.

Slowed his breathing. Focused on the pages of Bob Shepherd's The Infidel. He was cocooned in his own world until his Baby-G beeped. He walked to the Gate, his footfalls quiet and light. He was lucky enough to get a window seat and the plane was half empty. He buckled in, covered his eyes with the eye mask and switched off from the world. Drawing from life-long discipline of not worrying about tomorrow, he was instantly asleep.

He arrived in Sydney mid-afternoon, checked into the B and B, showered, changed and paid the police station a visit. There were three young constable manning the station, he asked to speak with Det David Hayley, whereupon he was told to 'get in line.' He held the young constable captive to his gaze. Unblinking. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Icy as blue ice in a frozen tundra. He placed both calloused hands with bulging knuckles flat on the counter. In a voice that was no more than a whisper, he said, "I'm in the front of the queue. Name is Hawke, Charles Hawke."

The constable swallowed. "I'll see if he's in."

Bryce reached home. Shut the engine of the helo down and ran up to the homestead. Belle forced a smile, "Is he ok?"

"He is. Are you?"

She blinked. He sat her down and forced it out of her. "Right, talk to me." She showed him the videos instead. "I didn't know what to do," she said. "I didn't."

"No one expected you to," he said. "I wished you didn't have to see that." He deleted them. All of them. He embraced her and said, "He's gonna be ok. He'll be right." She wondered why he never mentioned Grace. Why he wasn't saying if Grace was going to be ok. She had a feeling. Then she cried again.

Hawko stood back from the counter as he waited, clasped his hands behind him like he was there to inspect the place to see if it was to his liking. Det Hayley came out of a secure door from his right, speaking to a subordinate. Hawko turned. For a second their eyes locked. A kind of recognition flashed in the detective's mind. The shape of the face reminded him of someone from years ago but just now he couldn't place him.

Hawko approached, extended a hand, "Charles Hawke."

_Hawke._ The surname was familiar and it dredged up a case he handled nearly five years ago. "Hayley," he said in reply. "Come in." He led the silver fox into one of the interview rooms. "Can I offer you anything?"

Hawko shook his head. "You're busy enough as it is, I don't want to take more of your time."

They sat down, neither spoke at first. The impasse was broken by the insistent beeping of Det Hayley's phone. He graciously turned it off, then asked, "How's Grace?" It brought a tiny smile on Hawko's strained face. _So he remembers her_.

"She's gone," he replied in a manner that seemed unemotional. But as one father to another, the detective knew that it must be one hell of a pain he was dealing with. A father shouldn't be burying his child. "She killed herself on April 30."

The detective was gutted. "Fuck." Drawing breathe, he said, "I'm so sorry."

"I want to know what happened. How she did she come across these men?" Hawko produced the photographs and laid them on the table.

David Hayley blinked back the tears. Of all the victims he'd come across, Grace Rachel Hawke was different. Now he understood what made her tick. She was her father's child.

"She witnessed a young Asian woman being viciously verbally attacked outside a pub not far from here. All she was doing was waiting for her brother to pick her up. She wasn't drunk. She wasn't provocatively dressed. She was just waiting for a ride. These men surrounded her and called her all sorts of name, pushing her back and forth like a football. It was vicious and terrifying for her. No one came to her aid until Grace happened by."

It was the only time Hawke showed a reaction. He imperceptibly nodded. That would just be his amazing Grace to step right in the midst of a melee to help someone.

"She pushed right in and shielded the girl. They turned on her like a pack of feral dogs. Police came and arrested these three mugs, charged them with intent to cause bodily harm. They were held overnight in the dry tank, then released the next day." Hawko knew only too well. Mugs are taken off the street, sobered up, statements are taken, given a court date and released. Too easy.

"The girl... is she alright?"

"No, Mai Mai's not alright. There were two very innocent victims here. Mai Mai has not left her house for years." _Like my Grace_.

"A week later, I was attending a crime scene where a young girl was physically assaulted, and tattoo'd. It was Grace. At the hearing, Mai and Grace didn't have to testify during their trial, their own stupidity did that for them. They uploaded the videos of the assault on Mai and Grace online, it went viral among certain types of people. We used them as evidence. The maximum sentence for section 33 of the Crimes Act is 25 years but they got half that with the possibility of parole for good behaviour. I testified against them during their parole hearing." Eyes watering, he said, "We now know what good it did."

It took a full minute for Hawko to recover. It felt as if he was punched in the chest. He reeled from the impact. A tears rolled down his cheek. It got too much for the detective, seeing a hardened, dignified man cry for the lost of his treasured child.

Regaining composure, Hawko asked, "Help me understand this." He showed his pictures with cross hairs marked on it that were emailed to Grace. "Why did they send these to her?"

The detective shook his head, "Grace never showed them to me. I wouldn't know. I can only hazard a guess. In her flat were many photos of the two of you together, it was obvious to us you two were close. They must have had the same idea. They wanted to torture her even more."

Hawko asked, though not expecting an answer, "Why didn't she tell me?"

The detective who has seen it all, the barbarity man could do to his fellow, said with all the compassion he could muster, "I think there comes a time in our children's lives when they want to look after us. When they could only think of protecting us at their own peril. Maybe she was afraid of what you might do. Your Grace, she was amazing." Unable to contain his grief, Haweko dropped his forehead on the table and sobbed into it. The detective cried with him, sucked in his breathe and swore at the justice system that failed victims again and again.

After a few minutes, Hawko stood up, shook the detective's hand and thanked him. In parting the detective said, "Don't do anything that would discount Grace's sacrifice. She paid a price for keeping it to herself." Hawko nodded, understanding too well what David was implying. _Don't murder the bastards_.

Somewhere off gorgeous Magnetic Island, Bernard and Bonita prepared to dive. First off her agenda, she was going to observe how fish react to submarine sonar. "Where is the sub located?" she asked.

He smiled and said, "You know you're asking me to reveal a State secret, right?"

She put her hands on her waist, tilted her head just so and said, "How do I know that the sub is not somewhere in the Atlantic? I'm trying to find out if subs are causing environmental damage and if so, what damages they cause. Like, do they cause whales to beach themselves and I'm not going to know unless I know it's here for sure."

"Well, you just have to trust me. I don't know what makes you guys think we're the bad guys. We're the ones protecting Nemo, Flipper and Moby Dick. Trust me, we're on your side. And trust me when I say it's close enough... somewhere."

She huffed. In a tightly fitted wet suit and braided long black hair, she reminded him of Lara Croft. He smiled and said, "You're very beautiful when you get all passionate."

"You ass... will you stop flirting with me?" He cackled and tipped himself over board. Beware, he's called the Merlin because he's a magician under water. _So let it be an under water love affair!_

Hawko went for a long tab to clear his head. He kept walking until he reached the famous "Gap" in the eastern suburbs of Sydney. The Gap is an ocean cliff on the South Head peninsula which faces the Tasman Sea, located in Watsons Bay near South Head. It's a popular visitor destination because of its awesome beauty, but it was also famous for suicides.

From 1964, Don Ritchie, former WWII Veteran and retired insurance agent, has saved 164 people from jumping to their death by crossing the road from his property and engaging them in conversation, often beginning with the words, "Can I help you in some way?" Afterwards he would invite them back to his home for a cup of tea and a chat. Some would return years later to thank him for his efforts in talking them out of their decision. Ritchie was awarded a Medal of the Order of Australia for preventing suicides at The Gap, and was nicknamed the "Angel of The Gap". He died in May 2012. So on the 6th of May 2013, the Angel of the Gap was not there to stop Hawko. But Gracie was.

Hawko stood on the cliff gazing out to sea and mesmerised by the sound of water as it slammed against the rocks below. He took a step closer to the edge, as he did so, his ears picked up a distressed sound. It stopped him in his tracks. Perking his ears, he followed the direction of the sound. It was coming from the cliff's face. He laid on his belly and peered down. A kitten has hanging by the tip of her nails. Distressed. Meowing for dear life.

He looked down to it as the kitten looked up. She had the same eyes as Grace when she was a baby. Round as marbles and blue as the light sky. He reached down and by inching his way forward was able to grab the kitty's neck. He lifted it out to safety. The kitten, malnourished and hurting, nestled in the palm of his hands. He kissed its head. He saved it, and it saved him.

Worried about the kitten he named Gracie, he walked away from the inviting cliff and went to a supermarket instead to buy her something to eat. That same day they went home together. That was just the beginning of a new life for Hawko.

When he reached home his two-decade old answering machine was blinking crazily. His two other daughters were leaving desperate messages. "Dad, we heard about Grace. We're worried Dad, please call us. We love you. Please don't shut us out. We're your daughters, too."

Hawko listened and smiled. He put Gracie down in a little warm basket and phoned his two married daughters. They cried with relief and promised to see him on the week-end with his grandsons Matthew Hawke Gillard and Daniel Hawke Costello.

That night, he went to sleep with hope in his heart and Gracie crawled into bed next to him, safe by his side.


	54. Oh, the Places You'll Go

_Reminder: Belle's house was first mentioned in the chapter called 'Revelation'. _

**Oh, the Places You'll Go**

Peace and quiet returned to Cameron Country as life took them in all directions.

Since the wedding, Bryce has been called away twice. Squadron Four was called to stand-to, on the alert and ready to go, but at the last minute both missions were called off; a case of all dressed-up with nowhere to go. He used the free time to catch up with Hawko. A visit he made trekking up to the bushland yurt where Grace spent the last five years of her life in solitude.

In just a month, so much has changed for his former CO.

Standing outside on a cold Australian autumn morning, they gazed at the valley below admiring the scenery. Hawko told him he has had to regrettably put his cottage by the Hawkesbury River on the market but kept possession of his houseboat. His eyes moistened as he explained why he was parting with his prized lair. "She left this to me." Choking back the tears, he said, "I should have been the one leaving my earthly goods to her and her siblings, not the other way around."

"Sorry mate," he said. It sounded hallow in his ears. Hawko saved them both the embarrassment of seeing an old man cry. "Why are we standing here? Come in." Much has changed inside the yurt too. Framed photos of family, including ex-wives, decorated the walls. He has obviously been spending every available minute of his life with them, something he missed out on when his children were little.

"Beer?"

"That'll be great."

Hawko passed him a bottle, they walked out again, this time to the backyard. It was hard to tell though where the yard ended and the national park begun. His eyes caught sight of a simple white cross with Grace's name on it, the marker where he laid her to rest.

The spot was lovingly bordered by a man-made waterfall and stream. To construct it, Hawko would have had to painstakingly haul river stones, gravel, rocks, and bags of sand up to the property. The three waterfalls has varying heights; the water cascaded down to an S-shaped stream where he planted a perennial garden which gave it a natural look and sound. A labour of love. At night, the sound of running water must be both comforting and hynotising.

They sat on a park bench across it, drinking in the sound and sight of nature all around them. For Hawko, sitting here was about contemplating life without Grace, then consciously choosing at the beginning and end of every day to keep going and make amends to those he has hurt the most. He has saved thousands of people he didn't know from a bar of soap but wasn't there for the people who should have really mattered. It didn't make it any easier that they've told him they understood; that they didn't resent it.

Breaking the silence, Hawko said, "You know what I struggle with? I struggle with guilt. I constantly wrestle with the what ifs and the why didn't I's. I have difficulty forgiving myself." Bryce was tempted to say something intelligent or profound yet found himself lacking in wisdom and insight. He was convinced anyway that Hawko didn't need to hear him, he just needed to know he's here.

Their conversation was interrupted by a meow. Soon the little critter was rubbing up against Hawko's leg. He picked up the little kitty and smiled. "I'm up and down; but on days I don't care to get out of bed, this little fella here always makes sure I do."

"What'd you named her?"

"Gracie. I swear there are times when I think she's inside this cat. When I'm feeling sad, she curls up to me. Sits on my lap and looks right at me."

"That's good, mate. But promise me, you'd call if you need anything. I mean it. You can't always rely on a kitten."

"Thanks mate, I know you've got my back."

His visit lasted a week. Bryce made himself useful helping his mate renovate the cottage so he could, in a depressed property market, get a good price for it. Admiring their handiwork, the result was fantastic if they had to say so themselves. Thankfully, the buyers agreed. The first 'open for inspection' proved to be a major success. So successful that Bryce received a grateful message even before he reached Cameron Country, "Thanks Camo, got 3 good offers. SOLD."

_'Oh the places you'll go.' _

While Bryce has been physically on the go; Belle escaped the isolation of her home via fibre optics. At least she has learned her lessons, she now won't accept Government-related contracts or anything to do with mining. She had the idea to concentrate on looking for missing millions instead. She offered her services to U.S. divorce lawyers representing ex-wives chasing ex-husbands' hidden wealth. "This should be safe enough," she said as she assessed the merit of the first job offer.

Bryce wasn't so sure. He reckoned there's no one more murderous than a selfish man protecting his assets.

But he could hardly protest his wife's choice of profession, could he? It would be massively hypocritical considering the mayhem he gets into a lot of the time so they came into an arrangement. She would only accept forensic work when he's home so he could be her personal close protection. It was, in the ideal world, a very good compromise but not entirely workable since they couldn't predict with any degree of accuracy when he might get called away.

His only other condition was she shouldn't accept any jobs that required her sniffing around for missing millions owned by crime bosses. "That," he said, "is out of the question. If Putin wants to find Mr. Russian Mafia's money, he can go look for it himself."

Raf and Billy have also been busy packing up. It's now early June. Billy has entered the sixth month of her pregnancy and they didn't want to leave it too late to make a move back to Toronto. Belle felt the on-set of indescribable loneliness watching them pack. "Are you sure you want to go?" she asked Billy for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, I'm sure. He's sure. We're sure. What's the matter, Belle?"

"It must be the pregnancy hormones. Everything makes me sad."

"Poor Bella," she said. "Let's have tea, shall we?"

They were having cakes and tea when they heard Bryce announce himself, "Pixie, I'm home." Belle jumped up and rushed to meet her husband. "I missed you very much."

Bryce kissed her, then moved her at arms' length. "Guess what, we're going to Toronto with Billy and Raf, then to Washington, D.C."

"Really?" She gushed excitedly. He beamed widely and winked at Billy.

The excitement was electric. Billy and Belle contacted Winnie via Skype to let her know of their impending arrival. They giggled like school girls and made plans to meet up. Winnie was also heavily pregnant at this time; by sheer coincidence all three of them were due in September.

Bryce arranged for Rajo to spend the school holidays with Nanna. He was pretty upset in the beginning but bounced back pretty quickly.

The weather when they arrived in Toronto was perfect, sunny with a cool breeze. They stayed at the Rousseau's residence for a few days until Raf and Billy were able to secure a place of their own. Within the space of two weeks, they found an apartment and furnished it quickly to get away from his parents' constant bickering, which they hoped would be short-lived. Adjusting to each other after fifteen years apart would be hard on anyone so the friction was totally understandable.

Their first visitors were Winnie and Spike who ever the practical guy came with a brand new microwave tied with a red ribbon. "Here's your advance house-warming present."

"Awesome," said Billy. "Just what we need."

The women talked about pregnancy bodies and babies non-stop. The guys were happy to be left out of it. Over cold beer and home-made pizza, they had unfettered opportunity to talk about everything that mattered to them; sports, weapons and cars, not necessarily in that order.

Their two weeks in Toronto went like a blur visiting old haunts and meeting old friends. Three days before departing for Washington, D.C., they emptied Belle's storage unit and sought to FedEx'd her boxes to Queensland. However, delivery to Cameron Country wasn't possible. "Sorry Ma'am, we don't deliver to no man's land," advised the clerk when he found out just where on God's earth Gregory Downs is. Bryce arranged for the boxes to be delivered to the Townsville Post Office instead.

"Well, that's done then," said Belle with a sigh of relief. "Nothing's holding me down here except the house."

"Do you want to visit it while we're here?"

"That would be nice," she said with a tinge of nostalgia.

"Call the property manager, she should be able to work something out."

The next day the manager returned their call to say they could inspect the property. "The tenants are overseas."

Bryce was wide-eyed when they reached the perimeter of the house. "This?" he said eyebrows raised to high heavens. Belle nodded with a silly grin. The Wolf whistled. The property overlooked the shoreline of Lake Ontario at the mouth of the Niagara River. It has views to die-for of the Niagara-on-the-Lake.

"How big is the house?"

"The bungalow is approximately 4000 square foot."

"Bungalow? That's an understatement." The elegant house blended gracefully in the park-like setting, offering a quiet retreat to the occupants. The managing agent told Bryce, "Wait till you see the inside."

The interior of the house didn't disappoint. It was bathed in natural light that filled all the main rooms. The formal living and dining rooms were perfect staging places for any gatherings. It featured five magnificent bedrooms, four en-suites and a guest powder room. The backyard was also something else. The focal point was the expansive private deck and spa, complemented by a koi pond. The manicured garden, full of well-tended roses and a variety of perennial plants, gave an impression of being in a romantic get-away.

They wandered about the place, hand-in-hand. "My parents bought this when they moved to Toronto from the U.S. When they passed away, their insurance benefit paid off the mortgage so it was debt-free. They had the foresight to insure themselves to the hilt, it enabled me to look after myself comfortably." She stopped to look at him. "That reminds me I took out a life insurance policy on me. In case something happens to me..."

"You shouldn't have told me, now that I know you're worth more to me dead..." She mock punched him.

As they gazed back to the house, Belle said, "It doesn't feel like home now... Cameron Country is home."

"You have a hole in the head," he said as he surveyed what she gave up for him. He hugged her affectionately. Tenderly. "But I'm glad you feel the way you do."

Two days later they were in the American capital as guests of Major Benjamin Mabo Cameron. At his insistence, they stayed at his apartment on Massachusetts Ave, not far from the Australian Embassy. "The concierge will let you let into my flat."

She didn't realise just how tired she was until her back hit the mattress, she was out like a light. Bryce left her a note on the kitchen bench before taking off for a walk-about. Walking briskly, he reach Dupont Circle in less than 30 minutes. From the heavily treed rotunda, he called Jennifer Byrnes who had earlier sounded out an SOS regarding Phillips. He arranged to meet her for drinks at James Hoban's Irish Bar and Restaurant within the hour. "How will I recognise you?" she asked. Paranoid as ever, he replied, "I'll recognise you. Be there at 15:00 sharp."

He was there nursing a drink half an hour early. He sat where he could be somewhat obscured from view behind a wall but offered an unfiltered view of the door. Several female patrons walked in within the 10 minute window before 3pm, but only one moved like a sharp-shooter. By simple deduction, he assumed that Phillips' partner would come from the Sniper team, probably his spotter, since he was one of the Fed's sniping instructor prior to joining the Eagle's outfit.

He phoned her just as she walked in, "Look straight ahead." They locked eyes, phones attached to their ears. She walked straight over to him. They removed the batteries of their phones. It was of course moot and academic. If the Fed was really keeping tabs on them this simple precaution won't throw them off their backs, but still why make it easy for them. They didn't minced about, skipping useless pleasantries altogether. She gave him a full briefing, he listened, occasionally nodding to press her on. After close to an hour, he stood up and said, "I'll be in touch."

It was 18:00 hours when he returned and Belle was still sleeping. He looked on her admiring her gamin face which he loved about her. Then, a thought struck him. Belle said she couldn't find anything on Julius Fox online prior to 1980. A penny dropped! He was excited by it. It was a no brainer. It was plain and simple. _That part of his life was prior to the digital age_. Tomorrow, they would test the theory. _Time for good, old fashioned, gum shoe research_.

He was making himself something to eat when Ben return home from work. "Hey, don't make sandwiches, I'm taking you out to dinner. where's Belle?"

"Here," she said sleepily. She looked like a bomb hit her with hair sticking out in all directions. Ben smiled. "Good to see you." He kissed her on the cheeks and cheekily asked if Bryce was treating her well. "You know you only have to tell me, right? And I'll sort him out."

She laughed and said, "You heard that darling."

"Do you have a frock in your suitcase? I'm taking you both out to dinner." She made a face, then shook her head from side-to-side.

"No problem, Rebecca has a few pieces..."

_D'uh!_ "Except she's a good three inches taller and I'm pregnant." She turned side-ways to show a slight baby bump.

Bryce, ever the outside-the-box thinker, said "Nothing a bed sheet can't fix." They laughed at his all-in-one sarong solution to every life emergencies. She wasn't at all hopeful but in the end she found one of Rebecca's that fitted her nicely. A pale yellow sequined kaftan-inspired dress that fired her flame hair even more. She teamed it a pair of black pumps. The two men wore near identical suits. Bryce didn't bother tying the bow tie, he simply left it to hang around his neck, which she thought was really sexy.

Heads turned in their direction as they walked in, not because of her, but because of them. It was a posh place where diplomats dine. she immediately sensed that Ben was working the room. Nodding at a few people and shaking hands with some. The maître d' showed them to a reserved table and made several suggestions. They left it to Ben to order the food and the wine. The food was great, and the wine too, according to the boys since she wasn't having any. But it was the company she enjoyed the most. Ben, she discovered, hold court with ease. An erudite conversationalist, with a winning personality, she could see why he was the perfect diplomat.

And the brothers were a study in contrast. They were night and day. Black and white. Chalk and cheese. Even dressed in a suit, Bryce retained that rough and tumble air, but Ben was all finesse. Suave. Polished.

They went home close to midnight. The next day, Bryce discussed the Phillips case with Belle. "Wanna join me?"

"Yeah," she said with unsuppressed glee.

"We'll do this the old fashion way. Where did you say Julius Fox was born?"

"Virginia, Isle of Wight County."

Bryce smiled. "Let's go there then, shall we?" He morphed into Sherlock Holmes. "Here's what I think, you all can't find a digital footprint prior to 1980 because his past hasn't been digitalised. That's the problem with online detectives," he said winking at Belle, "they'd forgotten to put the boots to the ground."

Their first stop was Windsor High School. He introduced himself as a biographer researching materials for a book on one of Isle of Wight's great sons, Julius Fox.

"Julius Fox?" repeated the antique-looking registrar. "The name sounds familiar..." She turned to the lady behind her, a longer-time resident of the County. "Cassie, Julius Fox does that name ring a bell to you?"

The woman perked up, "Yeah. He's the captain of the debating team at Smithfield High School. He's a nerd that one... was one before the word was invented."

"Thank you," he said. "Much appreciated."

Belle was curious, "But why wasn't that info on file with the Feds."

"Fox joined the Bureau in 1990 or thereabouts. He's been with the Bureau, what, 20, 25 years. He's been _in situ_ for a while. Commercial Internet service providers (ISPs) began to emerge in the late 1980s and early 1990s. The Internet was commercialized in 1995. He joined the Feds before the age of complete and utter paranoia. Believe it or not, we once lived in the age of innocence at one stage. Back in the those days, vetting wasn't as stringent. Although these days, they'd want to know your full history, even where you attended kindergarten. See if there's any gaps in your personal history."

They made it to Smithfield High School just as recess period was ending. They introduced themselves as biographical authors and sought to interview someone who knew Julies Fox. The Principal was only too happy to help them. "I was a member of debating team. We won it that year," he said proudly. "How can I help you?"

"We would like to read news articles, year book, anything printed about Julius Fox. After we peruse them, we'd like to interview you if you don't mind. We won't quote you if you prefer to remain incognito."

This was his chance to glory so he said, "Of course I wouldn't mind you quoting me. Just make sure you spell my name right." He escorted them to a dingy old dusty room that hasn't seen a soul. "Do you know how to use a microfiche?" Belle thought she hasn't seen that since she was a child, even then it was only as a museum piece.

Bryce said, "Yeah I do. By the way, what year were you in high school together?"

"1976-1980. Let me get the file for you." The principal returned with boxes upon boxes of sheets of microfilm. Belle gasped and quipped, "Why haven't you digitalised them?"

"We have no money for that sort of thing," replied the principal.

Belle looked at Bryce like he was mad. "You're seriously not suggesting..."

"Yeah, I do. Don't worry I have a method to my madness."

It took them two full days of painstaking work to find a good number of articles on Julius Fox. One of them an essay he wrote about an idyllic place in Smithfield he titled "An island Dream". That year it was written, it won best essay.

"What's the bet he's there, right now?"

"You can't be serious? He stole 70 staggering million dollars and he'd hide in a place with a population of less than 50,000 and next door from where he stole it from? It's mad."

"Exactly why he would, don't you think? Because no one's expecting him to do it. Everyone's searching high and low and he's right there up their nose."

The essay was highly emotive and descriptive. So well written in fluid style that Bryce could almost see himself there. "Five acres of waterfront seclusion, privacy & beauty. God's own paradise on the Pagan River. Let's go, time to talk to a real estate agent."

"Why?" she asked.

He grinned at her, "Because if anyone knows Smithfield like the back of their hands, it would be an real estate agent, preferably an old-timer." They found him. Hobbling on a stick but still selling. Bryce described the place and he immediately brightened up, "I sold that."

"To whom?"

He shrugged, "To a company. Lawyer stitched up the deal. One million dollars. Biggest sale of my life," he said proudly brimming with joy. Bryce and Belle looked at each other, they've found the gold.

"Can you show us on the map where it is located exactly?"

Bryce hired a canoe the next day. With the information, they paddled downstream on a beautiful summer day. He was oaring, she was spotting with the bino. She found someone in pajamas lazing on a lounge facing the river. She pointed to him and said, "I think that's him."

Bryce knocked her hand down and glared. "Could you be more obvious?"He paddled a safe distance away. Using the marshes for cover he observed the Eagle.

The next day he returned with Jennifer, "Unbelievable. He was right here all along. unbelievable."

"It's the place he always wanted to be. A childhood dream he couldn't let go. That's people for you," he said, "we always ran to where we know best."

It was dawn of the Fourth of July when the Feds stealthily raided the house. That afternoon, Jennifer went to see Richard Phillips with the news. He didn't appear happy but he was at least relieved. "By the way, here's something from a friend." It was a keyring with a map of Australia. "He said you're welcome anytime."

That evening, Belle and Bryce were at the departure lounge waiting for a flight home. Their arms intertwined behind them, they looked on as planes landed and took off. In an hour, theirs would be taking off. In two days, they'll be back beneath the Southern Cross in the night sky.

_Oh, the places you'll go._

- The end -


	55. Epilogue

_Author's Note: You can follow Belle's pregnancy and birthing in the story 'September Child.'_

**Epilogue**

It was the last day of August when little Tau (African for lion) came unexpectedly into the world. His father expertly delivering him.

But changes was sweeping, it was wholesale.

Billy and Raf also had a son they named Rafael Rousseau.

Barry and Matilde announced their engagement not long after Ben and Rebecca. They decided on a very short engagement, both eloping to do the deeds in Las Vegas. The first they heard of it was on Facebook. "Blimey," quipped Bryce. Slagging flew across the four corners of the world from mates. "Tight ass" was common refrain.

Bernie and Bonita were now officially diving partners. Project Sonar was done and dusted. Her report said the findings were inconclusive. She wrote in her report, "More had to be done to pressure the Navies of the world, not just Australia, to disclose the whereabouts of submarines to marine researchers."

"Fat chance," said Bernie.

And Banjo, the cool dude, was packing off to join the elite of the elite for military exercises. Off to California to train with the best military helicopter pilots in the world. He punched the air when he received the news he was selected. Grateful he didn't have a girlfriend because this was his moment to grab with both hands.

Somewhere in Brooklyn, Hawko has slowly and steadily risen from grief. He was watching the news one night when three faces flashed on the screen. The newsreader said, "Three men were arrested at the Bali Airport trying to smuggle five kilograms of cocaine out of the country between them. Indonesia has a zero drug tolerance. Drug smuggling still attracts the death penalty. Australian consular officials have been to see the men to check on their welfare."

_Karma's a bitch._

By law, Indonesian law, trafficking is punishable by five to 15 years' imprisonment and fines of one billion to ten billion Indonisan Rupiah, the equivalent of US$112,000 to US$1.2 million. If the volume of drugs exceeds one kilogram (for raw drugs) or five grams (for processed drugs), the death penalty may be imposed. Hawko was worried about corruption though, money would change hands and before you know it the smuggler was nowhere to be found. He couldn't let that happen. That night, Hawko phoned a friend. A two-star general in the Indonesian Army, a former member of Kopassus, Indonesian Special Forces.

The General was only too happy to help. "We'll keep an eye on them, I'll personally make sure they don't come out of hell."

Not satisfied with that, Hawko flew to Bali to watched the court proceedings. The whole process was swift. He was there when the verdict was handed down by the presiding judge. Three months was all it took for her to hear all the evidence and to impose the death penalty. It was the greatest irony of all that the presiding Judge was named Siti Grace Soejarno.

The sentence gave him great comfort and the motivation to keep well, making sure no appeals for clemency ever succeed for as long as he lived.

In Washington, D.C., Richard H.M. Phillips and his cohorts were cleared of all charges. But it was limited success. The nerdy Julius Fox expertly toyed with the media, explaining in great detail why he did it. "Why are we spending U.S. taxpayers money to help Iraqi people? It doesn't trickle down to the needy. Warlords and their cronies line their pockets with it."

He also argued that he didn't spend the money on himself. He had cleverly donated some sums to charity having the foresight that he might one day be caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

"Look I've donated money to all the major charities. The rest was in the bank waiting to be disbursed." He made himself out to be a modern day Robin Hood. The media and the wider audience lapped it up.

The opinion polls were tilting to his side. "Yeah," they said, "Americans first." Phillips knew where this was headed and he didn't like it one little bit.

After the first hearing, Fox came confidently down the steps of the court house to speak to members of the media. No one heard the shot. The first they knew that Fox was dead was when he slumped into the microphones.

Suspicions fell on Phillips for he had motive and means. But on the day in question, several witnesses vouched he was having lunch in a restaurant one mile from where it happened. When the news broke, Bryce smiled knowingly. An expert sniper could kill from as far as two miles away. He only had to look at the building where Phillips had lunch to know for sure.

The deed would have been committed in less than 10 seconds. What took a lot of time was the process before the kill; finding a hide, selecting a spot, zeroing in his weapon, timing the ingress and egress; that would have taken days. He wouldn't be surprised if Phillips had eaten at the same place for weeks.

For authorities though proving it would be another matter altogether. After they falsely accused him the first time, they weren't keen to jump the gun. Snipers combed the building where he had lunch. Experts who think the way Phillips does. Like-minded people. But they didn't find a thing. Not the murder weapon. Not a bullet casing. Not a tripod mark. Not a print. Not a trace of gunshot residue. Nothing. Even if they voice their suspicions and guess work, it wouldn't count for shit. Suspicion is not evidence.

Rajo came home for the October school holiday to announce that he has a girlfriend. Bryce told Banjo the news by text, who replied, "Lucky sod."

Much has changed in Cameron Country. The first row of Wollemi pines has been planted. The beginnings of a sustainable farm was slowly coming to fruition.

They're still going places yet also anchored to a spot.

* * *

_If anyone wishes to obtain a pdf copy to read as an e-book, I'd be delighted to email you a copy. _ _Simply send me a private message._


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